


under queen of spades

by mildlydiscouraging



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Demiromantic Character, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 18:51:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 27,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4030780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mildlydiscouraging/pseuds/mildlydiscouraging
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of course, it's not every day the person you're secretly in love with offers to at least <i>pretend</i> to date you. You can't really turn down an offer like that.</p><p>(inspired by "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BvxtfjJiSi0">more than friends</a>" by gabrielle aplin)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. emphasis on the 'pretend' part

**Author's Note:**

> FOUR SCORE AND SEVEN YEARS AGO- well, actually its nine months, but you get the point.
> 
> back in august, my good buddy [sid](http://duplighoul.tumblr.com/) sent me a prompt from [this](http://moonfullofstars.tumblr.com/post/96211434603/) post, simply saying, "7!!!!! any pairing u want B)"
> 
> here we are, the end of may, over eighteen thousand words later, and i'm finally ready to post this. such a simple post, such a large mistake. i present to you the worlds most unnecessarily long fake relationship au phanfic. enjoy, weirdos.

A bicycle tears through tall grass, the sound of the green blades getting caught in the spokes a smacking that echoes as the bike veers down the overgrown grassy knoll and turns onto a sidewalk. The bike pulls up to a small house in a row of other small houses, squashed together like disgruntled commuters on the 5:30 train out of the city.

The boy hops off his bike, grabbing the mail from the box in front labelled "The Lesters" in a faded purple script, and bounds up the front steps.

"I'm home!" He calls, kicking his shoes off and running up the stairs in the particular silence that comes when the house is devoid of other people.

He gets to the top of the stairs and pushes open a door with a sign saying "Phil's Room (DANGER KEEP OUT) and covered in various stickers.

"Ugh."

Phil tosses his backpack onto the bed and throws himself into the desk chair with a dramatic sigh, spinning around aimlessly.

"Bad day?" A voice comes through the window.

Phil looks up and across the space between the two houses and into the room next door.

"It's barely been an hour since I last saw you," Dan continues, "what could've possibly gone wrong since then?"

Phil sighs again as he wheels closer to the window to see Dan leaning on his own windowsill and smirking.

"I just spent the last _hour_ ," he groans, "with Louise chatting my ear off about god knows what. I feel like my brain is about to explode."

Dan nods sympathetically, asking, "What could she possibly have to talk about for a whole hour?"

Phil gets up and sits on the desk. "Everything from 'why can't poodles be different colors' to 'why aren't you and Dan dating yet', and if I hear about _that_ one more time, I'm gonna stab my own eardrums."

"Right," Dan interjects, "but back to the colorful poodles. Could you imagine? Fluffy neon green dogs, oh my god, _Phil_. Imagine the possibilities, you could have one to go with every outfit and..."

After allowing Dan to expound on the endless benefits of brightly colored rainbow canines, Phil can no longer contain his laughter and bursts, clutching his side. There are two seconds of Dan staring at his friend in confusion before he joins him. Both collapse in giggles until Dan leans forward a bit too far and flails around briefly before falling backwards into his room.

At that Phil laughs even harder, over Dan's indignant spluttering as he tastes carpet, which, _ew_ , something he could've gone without ever having to do his entire life.

"Shut up," he squawks, "I could've died!"

"It's barely two stories," Phil retorts, "You would've been fine. If I had done that, you would've started hyperventilating laughing, don't deny it."

Picking himself up off the floor, Dan shakes his head and dislodges some fluff stuck there from the carpet before saying, "Yeah, well, Louise thinks you're secretly in love with me, so."

Phil shakes his head as Dan begins to try to climb across the gap between their houses.

"One, you're definitely gonna fall one of these days, and two," he continues over Dan's scoff, "Do you honestly expect me to think she's never said the same to you?"

One foot still in his own room and one foot braced against the side of Phil's house, Dan grabs onto the windowsill and waves his hand around until Phil grabs it and pulls him up.

"You've got a point there. I can't even begin to count the number of times she's hit me in the head in science with her notes that just say, 'Do you like Phil? Check yes or no'. Mrs. Rogers hates us so much."

Dan securely inside the room and leaning against the desk, Phil flops back down on the bed.

"I know she's gotta stop eventually, but it's just so annoying!" Phil rants, "Even PJ and Chris have started in on it, too, although really I'm surprised Chris held out this long. They're everywhere, god."

"We might as well just date to get them off our backs," he continues.

Dan immediately brightens up at that. "Yeah!" He says, "Let's do it!"

"Wait, what?" Phil asks, confused by this turn of events, "We should... date?"

"No, no," Dan hastily corrects, "We should _pretend_ to date. Think about it," he continues as Phil's expression grows more skeptic with every word Dan says, "If they think we're going out, they'll stop bugging us about it. And if they already think we act like we're dating, we won't even have to change anything to fool them. It's genius! I'm a genius."

"I wouldn't jump to that conclusion," Phil says, "but what if they figure out we were lying the whole time?"

"But they won't!" Dan replies, "I mean, unless one of us tells them, there's no reason they need to find out. We can just pretend for a while, fake break up but decide to just stay friends, and then just continue on with our normal lives. Or we could always tell them at the end and laugh in their faces when they see they were wrong the whole time."

Phil looks at him, still not convinced. Sure, all their friends already thought they were together, but what if they don't act enough like it and can't convince them? Although, if he's being honest with himself, Phil knows they really do act like a couple already. And, if he's still being honest, he's more concerned with the fact that he maybe really likes Dan as not just a friend and kind of wanted to sort of be his actual boyfriend. But what if Dan figured that out and thought he was just using this as an excuse to be with his crush and thought it was creepy or something?

Of course, it's not every day the person you're secretly in love with offers to at least _pretend_ to date you. You can't really turn down an offer like that.

"Alright, sure," Phil agrees, "But only for a little while. And we'll have to come clean about this eventually, you know."

Dan waves his hand dismissively as he opens the desk drawer and rummages around for some paper and a pen. "Sure, yeah, of course," he says as he finds a working marker, "So, we've gotta make sure we've got our stories straight. To start with, when did we start dating...?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tiny little first chapter with stupid premise but we gotta get the ball rolling quickly alright?
> 
> summer is soon so hopefully i'll be able to post fairly regularly on fridays without the distraction of school. hopefully. i'm not making any promises i know i'll eventually break, sorry.


	2. 'at least to shut me up'

The next day before class saw Phil standing nervously next to the bike racks in front of the school, vaguely listening as Dan chattered on about something. Phil wasn't quite sure what, he was a little distracted.

They were waiting for their friends to get there and _they were holding hands_.

It had been Dan's idea, in case one of their friends showed up early, so it would be an opener to their "coming out", so to speak, and Phil was only _mildly_ freaking out.

Dan notices this just before PJ, Chris, and Louise pull up on their bikes.

"Hey," he whispers, "you alright over there? You look pale, even more so than usual," he squeezes Phil's hand once before continuing, "It'll be fine, don't worry."

As Phil nods jerkily, the other three walk their bikes over to the rack, talking aimlessly about something, before they notice their Dan and Phil.

"Whoa!" Louise shouts, still a good ten feet away, "What the hell is this?"

Dan glances back at Phil one more time before the group gets there. "What the hell is what, Louise?" He says back, "See that monster spider of yours again?"

"Okay," she counters, "That was one time, and it was the size of a freaking tennis ball."

"I think what she means to say," PJ interjects, "is what's this whole hand-holding thing? Like, is this a _thing_?"

Dan rubs his neck sheepishly as he answers, "Yeah, kind of? I mean, it's been a 'thing' for a couple months now, but with all your nagging lately, we decided to finally just tell you all."

At that, Louise punches Phil in the arm.

"Ow!" He exclaims, letting go of Dan's hand to jokingly rub at where she hit him, "What was that for?"

"You've been holding out on me!" She retorts, "All those times I asked if you were together and you said no, you big fat liar. How could you keep this from me, I thought we were best friends?"

"Nah, that's Dan's title," he replies, Dan smiling beside him, "But did you really expect me to with all the times you attack me about it?"

"Yes!" She says, "At least to shut me up!"

PJ grabs her shoulder and pulls her back a little from where she's gotten into Phil's personal space. "Again, I think what she means to say is it's not really a surprise, but we're all happy for you both."

"One quick question, though;" Chris pipes up from behind them, "Who tops?"

PJ rolls his eyes in a long-suffering way as he drags the two troublemakers towards the doors. Chris loudly complains that "it's a totally reasonable question, okay, you were all thinking it!" as Louise looks over her shoulder and gives Phil the "I'm watching you" signal. It would be more intimidating if she wasn't a good foot shorter than him. That being said, it's still a little scary.

Dan turns to Phil, who is looking at Chris with a look on his face that is a mix between disappointment and disgust.

"Well, that could've gone worse. Phase one complete then?" He says and he grabs Phil's hand again and pulls him after their friends.

<+><+><+>

The first class Phil has that day without Dan is English, as his friend claimed to be too dumb for the advanced class (even though they both knew full well that it was just that the teacher was a total jerk who hated Dan). It's a class that he instead shares with Louise, who corners him the second he steps in the door.

"Seriously, how could you not tell me?" She jumps right into her interrogation as she follows him to his seat, "Did you think I wouldn't approve or something? Because you know I totally do, for all that I'm still pissed you didn't tell me in the first place."

Phil sighs as he takes his seat and turns around to face her.

"Look," he explains, "it's not that I didn't want you specifically to know, but Dan and I both thought it'd be best if we kept it to ourselves for a while, just in case we broke up and you'd all take sides or something."

Louise nods at that, opening her notebook as she says, "I could see that, yeah. But what made you guys change your minds then?"

Phil looks up at the board and starts mindlessly answering the questions about the reading as he replies, "We're pretty solid, relatively speaking, I mean. Neither of us felt like we'd be breaking up any time soon, and your constant needling about it was starting to get on our nerves, so."

She rolls her eyes, leaning over his shoulder to copy the questions he's already answered.

"Whatever. You're still totally into him, though, so I was right."

"Yeah," Phil says, "I totally am."

<+><+><+>

As Louise continues to copy off Phil's paper while he half-heartedly waves her away, Dan is sitting in "basic" language arts (if by basic you mean slow) down the hall. He takes out his things as PJ slides into the spot next to him at the table.

"So," he starts conversationally, "You and Phil, huh?"

Dan looks up to see PJ looking at him with a peculiar expression. "Yeah," he says, "Me and Phil."

PJ nods with a faux-serious expression and sharpens his pencil as Dan pulls out his stuff.

"So, I get that you're pretending to date solely to get us off your backs, but does he at least know you're in love with him?"

PJ continues to casually get his things out of his bag as Dan almost spits out the sip of water he had just taken and stares at him in disbelief. He splutters as he tries to swallow his drink while also deny the statement.

"Wh- What are you talking about?" He laughs nervously, "I'm not, I mean, we're not pretending, we're actually-"

"No, it's fine," PJ assures him, "I know, okay? There's no way the two of you would've been able to keep something that big a secret for so long. Or, you know, Phil would've told Louise at least."

Dan worries the edge of a piece of notebook paper between his fingers.

"Okay," he says, "fine, you got us, it's not real. But what was that second bit?"

"Does Phil know you're in love with him? Or, for that matter, do _you_ know you're in love with him?" PJ asks again, the picture of calm. Dan would resent him for it if he wasn't so busy shaking his head vehemently.

"See, but I'm _not_ in love with him," he explains, "No way. He's my best friend, has been for years, but we're only doing this so you guys get off our backs."

PJ nods again as he turns sideways in his chair to finally look Dan in the eyes.

"Look," he starts, "I'm not trying to tell you how to feel, really I'm not. But can you look me in the eye right now and tell me you've never felt anything other than platonic towards him? There's a reason the rest of us think you should be dating already, and it's not just because we're terrible friends who like to tease the crap out of each other."

Dan looks back at the board as he thinks about it. You know, come to think of it, he definitely likes Phil more than any of their other friends, and the fact that he just said "their" was a bit of a big hint. They do everything together, and not even in a clingy way. They actually enjoy being around each other twenty four seven, and all those times there was a lull in conversation and Dan just felt the urge to lean forward and holy shit, he was totally in love with his best friend.

He looks back over at PJ, who is still looking at him with that peculiar expression that Dan can now identify as a mixture of knowing, concern, and sympathy.

"I am such a fucking cliché, oh my god."

PJ pats him on the shoulder and leans back in his chair, knowing his work here was done for now.

<+><+><+>

Dan drifts through most of class like a balloon that a little kid let go of on accident and just floated away into the cloudless skies. Yeah, that's how he feels. And also he might have a problem of thinking in elaborate metaphors when he's confused, but that's not his main problem right now.

No, that would have to be the fact that he's just realized he has non-platonic feelings for his best friend in the whole world. Cool.

He starts filling out the worksheet he's supposed to be doing, preoccupied by the more important issues in his head.

Now that he thinks about it, it's pretty obvious that he's liked Phil for at least the majority of the time they've known each other. It makes it a little bit easier to accept, knowing the feeling hasn't come completely out of left field. Now his only problem is trying to figure out what to do about it.

To be fair, it's not every day you end up pretending to date your best friend and then realize that you want to _actually_ date them.

Scribbling down one last note about subject-verb agreement on the sheet, he leans over to PJ.

"Hey Peej," he whispers.

"I'm not doing yours for you, Dan," PJ replies absently, concentrated on his work.

"No, look, I'm done already, this is about something else."

PJ finally looks up and reads Dan's annotations.

"How are you already done?" He squints at the answers in slight disbelief, "I'm only one paragraph in!"

Dan gives PJ's paper a cursory glance over as he says, "I'm secretly a grammar genius. Also, that should be a semicolon, not a comma."

PJ glares at the offending punctuation.

"No," Dan continues, "It’s about... _the Phil thing_ ," he whispers.

PJ nods as he continues to try to erase his red pen marks.

"So I take it you've realized you love him?"

Dan tugs PJ's arm so he stops talking as Dan leans in, whispering, "Shh, not so loud, okay?"

As he's whispering, Dan hears from behind him, "Mr. Liguori? Mr. Howell? Everything going alright over here?"

Dan lets go of PJ's arm and turns around to look up at their teacher.

"Yeah, everything's fine," Dan says with obvious fake cheer, "We're just comparing what we got for the first page?"

Ms. Todd leans over and picks up Dan's paper from where it's sitting on PJ's desk.

"Well Dan, this is amazing! These are all correct!" She says, "Have you always been this good at writing? You should really be in the higher up class, with-"

"No, no," Dan hurries to say, "I'm good here, it's just PJ's been helping me a lot with this one."

She looks at him questioningly before handing him back his paper. "Alright," she nods, "carry on with that then boys, I'll be collecting this tomorrow."

As the teacher walks away from their table, Dan turns to see that PJ has picked up the two homework sheets again.

"Really, why are you here if you're this good at this kind of stuff?" He wonders as he compares the answers on the papers, "If you can do all this while not even paying attention, imagine what you could do in a more difficult class."

"Can we get back to the issue at hand?" Dan interrupts, "What am I supposed to do now? We're already pretending to go out, otherwise I'd try to just tell him somehow, but what now?

"Well, to be honest, I'm not really sure. It's not like this kind of situation comes up often." PJ says, setting the papers back down to the table.

Dan leans forward, slumping in his chair until his forehead rests on the tabletop. His groaning is, thankfully, muffled by the table. At least the unyielding wood understands how he feels.

"But," PJ continues, Dan looking back up at him, "I'll think of something, don't you worry."

Dan raises an eyebrow, skepticism written all over his face.

"You? Make a plan?"

"I make plans all the time!" PJ says, crossing his arms and pouting, "And they even work a majority of that time!"

"Yeah," Dan counters, "but they always need lots of weird things, like fifty towels, a killer whale, and a giant tub of peanut butter."

"That plan would have totally gotten us into the museum in time for the meteor shower and you know it. But I'm serious, I'll help you out with, this okay? God knows you need it."

"Really know how to make a guy feel good about himself, PJ."

"Only for you, Dan, only for you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh summer is a beautiful time. it's been two days since vacation officially started and already i've watched all of daredevil and the first two seasons of the it crowd. pretty productive, if i do say so myself.


	3. sufficiently cute

The whole gang is already sitting at the usual lunch table when Dan shows up, breathing a little heavily as he sinks down into the empty seat next to Phil and drops his backpack like a bag of rocks.

"Sorry I'm late guys," he says as he slumps over the table, "Ms. Todd wanted to talk to me after class."

"What'd you do this time?" Louise asks as she slides a can of soda across to him.

"Dan's a genius, actually," PJ points an accusatory fry at him before eating it, "Apparently he has been the whole time and he's just been pretending to suck at writing. Where will the lies end, Daniel?"

Dan rolls his eyes as he opens the can and basically chugs the whole thing. He sets the can down and rummages around in his bag for his lunch as he replies, "Whatever, PJ. So, how'd scary hard English go for you guys?"

Louise waves her hand as she tells him, "The usual. Phil does all the problems, I copy them, and whenever the teacher catches us I blurt some excuse while Phil does his best to not stammer out the truth. But what's this about you being the next Isaac Asimov?"

"Wasn't Asimov a science guy? Like chemistry and stuff?"

"Isaac Asimov was the author of hundreds of science fiction books," Phil says, "which you would know if you were actually in the class you ought to be. How'd you know him by science and not something like, I dunno, _I, Robot_?"

Chris, who had been inhaling his lunch and observing the conversation from the corner, interjects with an "Ooh, lover's quarrel," before taking another giant bite out of his sandwich.

"Hey," Louise says, "that's right! You two owe us a story." She points accusingly between the two, "I wanna know how this whole thing happened." She starts snapping to get their attention from where they were arguing about Isaac Asimov still.

"What?" Phil says, turning away from Dan.

"You know," she says, "How'd you two get together? When'd you each realize you were madly in love with the other? If you've been together this whole time, you better have a fucking cute story to make up for not telling us. Come on, I'm dying over here not knowing."

"You always need to know everything, ’Miss Gossip Queen’," Dan retorts.

"I'd like to hear this too," PJ interjects, "especially how you realized you liked each other."

"Yeah!" Louise points at the two sitting across from her, "When'd that happen?"

Phil looks over at Dan briefly before he starts.

"Well, I think I knew I liked Dan for a long time. Probably since we were twelve and we had that sleepover in the treehouse where it started raining. We had to hide out in shed all night," he addresses Dan for a moment, "and you shared your sleeping bag with me because mine fell in the mud."

"But we only started dating this past June," he says to the rest of the group, "the morning of Dan's birthday."

Phil doesn't notice Dan staring at him with a small smile on his face as Louise nods her head. "You _were_ both acting weird that day, in retrospect. Neither of you would stop staring at each other the whole party, even if you were on opposite sides of the room."

While Phil was talking, PJ watched Dan's face and his reactions to Phil's story. "But what about you, Dan?" He asks, "When did you figure it out?"

Dan looks over at him in confusion, shaking himself out of whatever he had been thinking about. "What, me?" He says, "Well, it was definitely way after Phil," as in only an hour ago, "probably a couple days after school ended, the week before my birthday. We were listening to music in Phil's room and I was on the floor by his bed and... I looked up and he just looked kind of beautiful, I guess?"

"You _guess_?" Louise repeats mockingly.

"No, I mean-" Dan says, visibly frustrated. "It was just a sudden 'Oh, my best friend's really pretty. And also funny and kind and amazing and wow I guess I really do like him more than I thought'. After that I was basically ruined for looking at him any other way, which I guess came in handy when we actually got together."

As he finishes talking, Louise leans forward and rests her chin in her hands, an exaggerated dreamy smile on her face.

"That sounds _so_ romantic," she says, her voice saccharine and sticky sweet, "All of a sudden deciding, 'Hey, I guess I kind of like you,' and that being it."

Her face changes back to its former impatient look as she continues, "Okay, but seriously, that's well cute and all, but get to the good stuff already. How did Dan and Phil become _Dan and Phil_?"

Phil glances at Dan, knowing this was the moment that their entire plan in riding on: can they make their story sound believable?

"So, like I said," Phil explains, "it was Dan's birthday, and I had slept over the night before, but you know that air mattress we have that we use for sleepovers when you guys come round?"

"Yeah, and you guys are all giants and I have no idea how you still manage sleeping on that that," Louise replies.

"That's actually the point," Dan says, "was that Phil doesn't quite fit on it anymore, he's so tall, so we had to both sleep in the bed. That didn't work all that better, of course, but at least your feet weren't hanging off the edge."

"Anyway," Phil takes back control of the story, "so we both had to sleep in the same bed,"

"And Phil's like the most restless sleeper ever-"

"Am not!"

"You are, just accept it, okay? And the next morning when I wake up, Phil's sprawled all over me like he's a bloody starfish or something-"

"Okay, I didn't _sprawl_ , I gracefully took up a majority of the bed and ended up covering you like a blanket."

"It was so hot out already and with an entire other person on top of me I was basically dying. But I guess it was kind of cute because when I woke up you were sort of half awake and then I shifted a little and you grabbed onto my shirt and sort of nuzzled me."

"I'm not a baby animal, Dan."

"No, but you're cute like one. So Sleeping Beauty over here finally woke up, and when he yawned and rubbed his eyes with the behead and everything, it was all around adorable so I just. Kissed him, I guess."

"It was nice, even though your morning breath was terrible."

"You promised you wouldn't bring that up again!"

"It's true though! You said it yourself, you said it tasted like something had died in your mouth. It was sweet, but also a little gross."

"Oh, so my kissing's gross now?"

Phil is still smiling as Dan leans in playfully, but before they can continue Louise clears her throat, reminding them of their audience.

"So, here's the bottom line." Louise plants her elbows on the table and steeples her fingers, "Can I take credit for this? What with my superior matchmaking skills and all. Ooh, and when you get married and have kids, can I tell them the story of how Auntie Louise got their daddies together?"

"'Matchmaking skills'?" Dan repeats incredulously, "What matchmaking was there on your part?"

"Um, all those times I set you up on dates that you didn't know were actually dates?"

"No," Phil says, "we knew that was your intention. We just went along with it anyway because, I mean, who's gonna turn down free dinner and a movie?"

"Okay, but you didn't deny the bit where you get married and have kids-"

"That's because-"

Dan is cut off by the bell signaling the end of lunch and Louise immediately gets up. Sucked into the crowd of people leaving, Louise just waves and bounces out of the cafeteria, Chris following and telling her all about the beautiful sandwich he just ate.

Trailing behind, PJ looks back and forth between the two before giving Dan a knowing look. Dan knows PJ is going to corner him as soon as school is over and try to convince him this is all a bad idea. He's dreading it already.

"You think they bought it?" Phil says as they stand up to throw away what's left of their lunches. The lunchroom is mostly empty, everyone having rushed off to either go to their next class or go smoke in the bathrooms. It was a fifty-fifty chance really.

"I don’t know, was that sufficiently cute?" The hallways are barren aside from a few stragglers and delinquents and they get to their maths class fairly easily, aside from the two seconds where it looks like Phil's about to fall down the entire flight of stairs.

Phil laughs, pushing open the door. "Well, I for one liked the part where I looked like a baby animal. What was that about?"

"You do sometimes!" Dan says. He doesn't know why he's so defensive all of a sudden, but he is. "Sometimes you just scrunch up your nose and your face looks all little and it's actually quite cute."

"Alright. Did you do the homework?" Phil asks as he pulls out his own finished worksheet and his notebook.

" _Shit_."

He shakes his head as he watches Dan scramble to search through his backpack, passing him his sheet to copy before class starts when he inevitably finds the blank paper crumpled in the bottom of his bag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> phil's cute like a baby animal, pass it on
> 
> (since last week i've watched another two entire tv shows. rip me.)
> 
> ((if u need more dan cute in your life, read my [latest fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4115968/chapters/9276142), its cute as hell and im quite proud of it))


	4. all about semantics

Several hours of mind numbing lessons later, the sweet, shrill bell rings and the entire classroom erupts into chatter about weekend plans and kids heading to the front of the school to catch their buses.

Having the luxury of walking home, Dan and Phil gather up their things slower than their classmates, continuing the conversation they had been having when the bell had rung.

"But if Pikachu was that useless," Dan is saying, "why would Ash have kept him that long?"

"Oh come on," Phil says, "like you've never kept a starter for sentimental reasons. Plus, Pikachu's got his strong points, he's not totally awful. Ash isn't all that great either, if I were Pikachu I would've abandoned him ages ago. He's loyal, you've gotta give him that."

At this point they'd reached the stairs, their feet slapping on the steps in harmony in the now otherwise quiet building.

"Phil," Dan says and pulls open the front doors, "if you were Pikachu, there'd be more issues than how useless you are."

"I'll have you know I'd make an excellent Pikachu, thank you very much."

Dan laughs and shakes his head, walking a little bit behind Phil as he leads the way home.

"Hey, speaking of things I'm excellent at," he calls over his shoulder before turning around to walk backwards and face Dan, "How do you think the first day of us dating went?"

"'Things you're excellent at'," Dan scoffs, "Right." He trips somewhat as Phil purposefully slows down, stepping on Phil's heels. "I think it went well. For now it feels like we've pulled it off, but we'll just have to see how that goes."

"Have you thought about how long we ought to keep doing this?" Phil turns back around and slows down until they're walking side by side, "I feel kind of weird lying to them all. Don't get me wrong, their faces when we told them were priceless, but how far are we taking this?"

Dan steps into the gutter and kicks around the dead leaves that lie there as Phil looks at him concerned. There was something about the look on his face that didn't quite make sense. He looks- Well, Phil doesn't know what. Conflicted? He looks conflicted as he watches the leaves crunch under his shuffling feet.

"Dan?"

He hums, distracted, before finally looking up, the expression on his face dissolving as he sees Phil staring at him.

"What?" He says, "No, yeah, I've been thinking about that, too. I mean, we can't just 'break up'," he makes air quotes before lowering his hands and staring at them as he continues, "At least, not tomorrow or anything. I guess we can just see how long it takes before it stops being funny."

"Alright..." Phil draws out, "Is there something bothering you though? You look spacey and you're fiddling with your hands; you only do that when you're nervous about something big. What's up?"

Dan gives him the smile that Phil can never tell if it's real or fake, but when he says, "Nothing, just worried about all the homework I've got to do," it doesn't seem like he's all there. As he turns back to stare at the cloudless sky overhead, Phil can't help but feel a little bit more worried.

<+><+><+>

Phil stops in his tracks only two blocks from their houses as he finally comes up with an explanation for Dan's odd behavior, grabbing Dan's arm and making him stop walking too.

"What?" Dan asks, pausing in the story he was telling, "What's up?"

"I just realized, PJ was staring at you weird during lunch. Is that anything to do with why you're acting so off?"

Dan ducks his head, avoiding Phil's caring but accusatory stare.

"Why would PJ be staring at me? And why would that hypothetically make me act 'weird'?" He keeps walking, knowing Phil will follow him.

"This isn't one of your usual melancholy 'why do any of us exist if we're just going to die in the end' moods." Phil explains, stepping over a massive crack in the sidewalk, "With those you at least say what you're thinking as you stare off into space. Right now you just seem quiet and internally sad. I'm gonna find out why so I can make it better, okay?"

Dan shoots him a small but genuine smile, saying, "I know you will," before jumping back into his story, more enthusiastic than before.

Phil nods at all the right places and laughs when it's appropriate, but he isn't really paying that much attention as his brain is focused on more important things.

When they had been telling their agreed upon story of getting together, Phil could see that PJ was staring quizzically at Dan out of the corner of his eye. But when he shifted to get a better look, PJ would either slap on a smile or look the opposite direction.

If he had to describe it, he would say PJ looked like he had either expected something else or was skeptical of what they were saying. Although on second thought, he did look kind of like he was disappointed...

"Hey Dan," Phil says after the other boy finishes his story, "Are you in love with PJ?"

With that he finally gets an actual reaction out of Dan, who whips his head around and looks at him like he's suddenly grown a second head or something.

"What on earth are you talking about." He says in a deadpan voice, "Why would I be in love with PJ? Oh my god, that's hilarious."

"It's a fair question!" Phil retorts, "He kept looking at you like he was all disappointed when you were saying how you started liking me!"

Dan laughs and steps behind Phil, putting his hands on the other boy's shoulders and shaking his head sadly at him.

"Oh Phil," he says as he steers them towards his front door, "what a little weirdo you are."

Phil watches as Dan pulls out his keys to unlock the door and says, "But does that mean you're _not_ in love with PJ?"

"No Phil," Dan pushes open the door, "I'm not in love with _PJ_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> today i wrote most of the end of this, got my d+p pixel shirt in the mail, and found out who i'm betaing for for the pbb this year so !!!! full phandom day


	5. stay awake for hours

Being the start of a weekend, they head up to Dan's room and play Bioshock for the next ten consecutive hours, only pausing to let PJ in and eat pizza.

By the time Dan finally looks away from the TV screen, the clock on his nightstand says "1:28 am" and PJ has fallen asleep in the corner, buried in blankets with an empty pizza box on his head. Phil is dozing off against his shoulder, game controller falling slack in his hand, looking incredibly precious for someone drooling all over himself.

Searching through the darkness with one hand in an attempt to shut the TV off without waking up Phil, he finds the remote and jabs blindly at the buttons until he succeeds in making the screen go dark.

At the sound of the screen clicking off, Phil snuffles in his sleep, waking up enough to mumble, "Mmm, whatcha doin'?" as Dan tries to lean him back against the side of the bed so he can crawl onto the bed.

"Shh," he whispers, "it's almost two in the morning, go back to sleep."

Phil nods drowsily and lists to the side as he slides down to lie on the floor.

Dan sighs as he hauls Phil to his feet and says, "You'd hate me so much in the morning if I let you sleep down there, come on."

He leads Phil over to the bed, moving the three backpacks sitting on top as quiet as he can without waking PJ up as well, and Phil flops down sideways on the mattress as soon as there's enough space cleared for him to do so. Dan chuckles quietly as he nudges at Phil's legs until there's enough room for both of them, pulling the blankets out from underneath his friend and wrapping them around himself.

"You good over there, Phil?" He asks as he rolls onto his side.

In answer, Phil just scoots closer and tries to wedge his way under the blankets. Dan laughs a little louder this time, catching himself before he wakes up the rest of the sleeping house, and lifts up the blankets so Phil can join him.

"S'cold out, kay?" Phil mumbles defensively, "Need the blanket too."

Dan smiles at him fondly as he shuffles close enough to pull the blanket all the way around the two of them. Beneath the blanket, Phil tucks his head under Dan's in an attempt to save himself from the cold seeping through the window.

It's warm under the cover of both his blankets and friend, and Dan looks up at the ceiling as he considers what had happened that day.

That morning he had gone to school with a whole plan set up: trick their friends into thinking they were dating, wait a bit, then either go on with their lives or, even better, tell them the whole thing was fake, and laugh in their faces.

Less than twenty four hours later and so much had changed. Sure, the plan was still happening. But, in the meantime, certain revelations had been had, and feelings were discovered, worried over, and accepted (mostly in that order).

So sure, there were things that had ended up the way he had thought they would, but in such a short period of time, so many things Dan thought were true weren't.

That morning he'd been _Dan Who's Best Friends With Phil_. Now to most of his friends he's _Dan Who's Dating Phil_ , to Phil he's _Dan Who's_ Pretending _to Date Phil_ , and he's _Dan Who's Pretending to and Wants to_ Actually _Date Phil_ to both PJ and himself.

Maybe he's just _Dan Who Should Not Be Trusted with Figuring Out His Own Emotions_.

At any rate, he shouldn't be trying to figure this out as exhausted as he is, so he decides to just go with it as he buries his face in Phil's hair and goes the fuck to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i meant to post this earlier today but then i kinda got caught up in the fact that now i can hypothetically marry someone now regardless of what gender they are. did a lot of crying today, to say the least.
> 
> i do feel a little guilty though, i've been getting behind on writing and posting things since i started working on my pbb fic (i'm betaing for [lesterical](http://lesterical.tumblr.com) on tumblr, its v exciting)


	6. composed

Too early the next morning, the sun is shining softly through the window, everything is warm and soft focus, and the three boys are still quite happily asleep.

That is, until someone starts stomping up the stairs and throws open the door.

"I don't care if you're decent or not," Louise says as she walks in, "I'm coming in and you can't stop me. Now who wants donuts?"

The boys, blearily rubbing their eyes, all nod in unison as Louise picks her way across the room.

"Just so you know," she says as she hands Dan one from the bakery box, "I'm not doing this out of the kindness of my heart. This is just to get you to wake up so you can help me with Chris's surprise party."

Not at all prepared to be ordered around by her for the rest of the day, Dan tries to turn over on his side while still reaching a hand out to grab a donut, trapping Phil beneath him.

Phil waves his one free hand around until Louise grabs it and yanks him out from under Dan. This throws them both onto the floor in a tangled heap, right next to where PJ’s head is sticking out of his massive pile of blankets.

Sighing, Louise drops the box of donuts on the bed and walks out of the room again. She's at the top of the stairs when she yells over her shoulder.

"If you aren't all up and dressed in ten minutes, I'm getting your mothers. See you downstairs!"

Phil waves his hand around some more until the side of it collides with the box of donuts, fumbling with it before finally getting one out and shoving it in his face.

Or he _tries_ to before Dan intercepts the pastry, grabbing it from his hand and eating it. He keeps eating it as Phil starts smacking him with one of the pillows that had fallen of the bed with then.

"Cute." PJ rasps from his blanket fortress. "Now give me that box."

As Dan and Phil are distracted by their quickly escalating all out pillow war, he pulls the box out from under them and starts eating the slightly crushed pastries.

Over the sounds of PJ happily inhaling at least three donuts and Dan and Phil still shoving pillows in each other's faces, Louise's voice carries up the stairs.

"I hope you're all dressed and ready up there!"

There’s a scramble as all three climb over each other in an attempt to look like they had been doing what they should've been the whole time.

<+><+><+>

A few minutes later the three of them stumble down the stairs in various states of disarray, still not quite awake. They turn the corner to see Louise sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by piles of paper and four glasses of orange juice.

"Well, it's about time you lot got up," she says as she hands PJ and Phil each a glass. "Wait, where'd Dan go? Didn't he come down with you guys?"

Phil chugs his juice as PJ turns, confused, and walks back around to the stairs to look for him. He finds Dan slumped at the bottom of the stairs, curled up in the fetal position and asleep with his head leaned against the wall next to him.

PJ chuckles and walks over to him, shaking his shoulder to try and wake him up again.

"Dan," he coaxes, "wake up, or Louise'll cut off your hand or something."

Even the threat of physical violence wouldn't do it, so PJ claps his hands in front of his still closed eyes. Dan's eyes snap open at the loud noise and he bolts upright, almost hitting his head on the stair above him.

"I'm awake, I'm awake, don't hit me," he says as he flails his hands in front of his face, knocking PJ's clasped hands away from him.

As his friend stands up, PJ laughs. "How did you manage to fall asleep in the time it took you to walk downstairs, are you seriously that tired? How long did you stay up last night?"

"I may have been up until two thinking," Dan answers, "but you can't prove that."

They turn the corner as PJ says, "I'd ask what you were up all night thinking about, but I think I know the answer."

"The answer to what?" Phil asks as they enter the kitchen and Dan starts drinking his glass of juice.

He opens his mouth to reply, still not operating on full brain capacity, and ends up dribbling orange juice down the front of his shirt.

"Nice," Louise simpers as he tries to wipe the juice off his face and wet shirt, "Real composed. I assume this means you're not really awake then?"

As Phil giggles and hands him a dishtowel, Dan glares at them both and says, "Ha-ha, very funny. Why'd we have to be up so early and, more importantly, how'd you get in here?"

Louise sighs and starts stacking up the papers on the table. "We have to make sure everything is perfect for Chris's birthday today, to make up for last year. And your mum let me in," she glares at Dan as he snickers, "which was super awkward because _someone_ forgot to tell her I was coming. We ended up sitting here for fifteen minutes in complete silence until she said she had to go get groceries and left."

Dan smiles apologetically at her as he takes the papers she hands him and says, "Sorry about that. Still don't understand why we've gotta be awake right now, but what's all this?"

On the pieces of paper she'd passed out to everyone seemed to be schedules, detailing their day almost down to the minute. Things like "7:15 - wake up dan + phil + pj", "8:30 - get cake from bakers", and "9:20 - make pancakes + wake up chris" adorned the paper, as well as many, many more things.

"Are we seriously going to do all this today?" Dan wonders aloud as he flips to the next page in the packet of three.

"Well," Louise starts, "It's not _all_ just schedule. There's other things in there too, like phone numbers and addresses and such. There is the possibility that I got a bit carried away, but that's not the point. We've still got to make sure everything goes right this year, okay?"

Awkwardly glancing at each other at the thought of last year's fiasco, they all nod and listen as Louise's long explanation.

By the end of her spiel, everyone knows their tasks: Dan is in charge of staying home and clearing out the yard behind both his and Phil's house so it's already for when Louise returns with the supplies and, later, the guests. Meanwhile, Phil is to go get all the food and decorations with PJ's help, before PJ goes to wake up Chris and make sure he's distracted until the party is ready. By that point Chris would probably know what they were trying to do and would play along, if only to humor PJ. Then they’d gather everything in the garden and everything would go off without a hitch.

It was a plan so detailed down to the minute that there was nothing it could do but fail in the most spectacular fashion possible.

At least it couldn't be as bad as last year.

Hopefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: the document this is all from is titled "TRASHMAN (aaaAAAAAaaaA)" and its supposed to be read to the tune of [the dayman song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0V784AiYtG8) from it's always sunny in philadelphia. personally i prefer the portugal. the man cover of it, but that's probably bc i heard it live at a festival once + was one of the only ppl who got what it was


	7. except

Several hours into the party sees Chris clambering on top of the nearest table and standing in silence until people start to quiet down in mild anticipation.

"Friends, countrymen, lend me your ears!" He proclaims as he adjusts the paper crown balanced on his head, "As the official Birthday Boy, I decree that the next activity of the evening shall be spin the bottle!" He’s loud enough to be heard even inside Dan’s house, back door open for ready escape if the grey clouds overhead fulfilled their promise of rain.

It doesn't quite garner the enthusiastic response he had hoped, but at least no one is actively protesting. He counts it as a win.

Most of the guests follow him to the middle of the yard and sit down in a wide circle where he gestures at the grass. Pretty much all of them know better than to fight Chris once he has his mind set on something.

Among the stragglers scattered around the yard and house were Dan and Phil, still over by the TV in the living room. They were in the middle of a Mario Kart race and Phil was trying to convince Dan to give up and join the growing group outside.

"You're only saying that because you're losing," Dan says as he throws another banana peel over his shoulder. Phil immediately skids out and watches Dan speed up to win the last lap.

“Okay, first off, I’m not.” Phil replies, resisting the urge to hit Dan’s smug face with his controller, “Second, I wanna see if PJ spins and ends up on Sydney.”

Sydney was a mutual friend of theirs and PJ was so stupidly into her. They shared a couple of classes and whenever PJ wasn’t talking about the last movie he saw, he was talking about how great her hair looks or how nice her laugh is. When PJ had read off the guest list earlier that week, he had stumbled over her name and everyone had exchanged a knowing look. He was into her, to say the least, in whatever capacity that might be, and he’d been acting really nervous ever since she’d arrived at the party.

Needless to say, Dan wouldn’t hypothetically miss it for the world, so he lets Phil take his hand and drag him over to the growing circle.

“Ah, so the lovebirds have finally joined us,” Chris says from the head of the circle as they find space between Louise and Sydney. How there was a head of the circle, Dan wasn’t sure, but if there was any way to do it Chris would know.

“Just spin the bottle already,” Dan rolls his eyes, trying to find some way to sit so he isn’t completely in Phil’s lap. He manages it eventually as they go through the first couple of rounds, although he’s still leaning on Phil with pretty much with his whole weight. He just doesn’t know Sydney all that well and wouldn’t want to invade her space. That’s all.

Just as Dan finally gets comfortable, Chris decides the circle isn’t random enough and makes everyone shuffle around (although Dan ends up next to Phil again so he’s not sure how random it is). He “grants” Dan “the honor of spinning first” (read: throws the bottle in his general direction and demands he start) and Dan begrudgingly does so. And lo and behold, who else could it have stopped on but Phil?

Dan curses his own luck and morbidly marvels at the fact that he’s living in a teen rom-com as Chris loudly cheers in the background. PJ looks at him a little worriedly, but he tries to block it out as Phil leans over and whispers, “I guess we have to do this then.”

Dan nods in agreement, not trusting himself to not say something like “I love you” or something.

Except then he might.

Except then Phil kisses him.

Except then he kisses back and neither of them stop until Chris pulls them apart and the party moves on.

Except then Dan really doesn’t and can't remember anything past the feeling of Phil’s lips on his own. That and the fact that afterwards he doesn’t talk to a single person that night. Including Phil.

<+><+><+>

Things don't seem weird the day after, for once. Everyone still thinks they're dating so no one says anything weird about it (aside from the concerned and half-pitying look PJ had given Dan before he went home) and when they fall asleep on the floor of Phil’s living room later, sleeping wrapped up in each other seems so normal that this doesn’t feel any different.

Dan being unable to fall asleep easily, well, that wasn't any different either, although the reason for it was. Had he really accidentally told Phil he loved him? Or had he just imagined it? Had Phil even heard him, or did he think that Dan meant it in a platonic way? There was absolutely no way the second was true, since they had been _about to kiss_ , holy _shit_ , and that happened too. And that was another thing: something had felt fundamentally different about that kiss. Every time he’s kissed someone (which, to be fair, has not been that much), it had been nice, sure, but nothing like that. It had felt like every molecule in his body was trying to memorize every molecule of Phil, and at the same time like someone had stuck a defibrillator directly over his heart.

Eventually Dan decided it was too much to try and make sense of that night and gave in to the warmth of Phil's arms around his waist. After all, it might be last time it ever happened. That thought kept him up a little bit longer, though.

And in the morning when they all wake up and sleepily stampede into the kitchen, Phil steals half his pancakes and Dan eat them off his plate and everything seems so perfectly normal it almost hurts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my eternal headcanon of pj as aromantic still stands, but imagine him + sydney sierota from echosmith. imagine sydney sierota.
> 
> look at me + my artsy one word titles, nice. if you can't wait for next week and wanna read more new stuff from me (why??), check out the prompt fic i'm currently working on, "[in every universe](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4271898/)". they're all completely unrelated but a few of them r pretty cute and i'm always writing more.
> 
> i've made another tumblr!! yeah, i know, i can't control myself. it's @[dweebhowell](http://dweebhowell.tumblr.com) if u wanna come say hi!


	8. even if

The mornings after a sleepover always feel like a hangover to Dan, but without the actual drinking part. Like a fun hangover. A friendship hangover? The point is it’s like returning home is a letdown after all that time with your friends.

Don’t get him wrong, Dan still loves his family and everything. It’s just that sometimes he needs to take a break from them and spend the time with the people he chooses to be with. More and more often it feels like this is what he’s been waiting for, like it’s a preview of what his life could be like one day. It makes his normal life at home seems just the tiniest bit worse.

Dan gets home from Phil’s and starts to head up the stairs to his room when a cough from the kitchen stops him.

“Dan?” It’s his mum, who’s sitting in the living room and reading a book. He sticks his head in the doorway and she waves him in.

“I got a text from Phil’s mum a couple hours ago,” she starts, not looking up from her book. “She sent me this.”

She hands him the phone from beside her, still reading. The screen fades a little before Dan can actually look at the picture and he taps the phone to wake it back up, only to almost drop it when he figures out what the picture is of.

“Oh.”

It’s him and Phil, probably from last night since they’re wearing the same clothes, and they're lying together on Phil’s couch, completely intertwined. It feels like a weird out-of-body experience as he notices how his head is tucked into Phil’s neck and his arms are wrapped tightly around Phil’s middle. Phil has one hand on Dan’s back and one woven into his hair, a sleepy content smile on his face.

“Yeah,” she says, “’Oh’.”

“I can explain?” He tries weakly. It falls flat, even to him, and his mum just raises an eyebrow in reply.

“We were going to tell you, I- I was going to tell you,” he explains, “I just thought it might be weird….”

“Weird to tell your mum you’ve been secretly dating your best friend for who knows how long?” She finishes for him, “Come on, Dan.”

“Since June,” he finally blurts out, “we’ve been together since June. But we wanted to make sure that we actually liked each other romantically in case it was just a fluke so we didn’t have to confuse everyone else as well as ourselves.”

It’s a little hard to tell what he’s saying, given the fact that he’d said it all in one breath, and she has to take a moment to decipher the slur of words.

“June? That’s impressive,” she finally says, and Dan lets out the breath he didn’t know he had been holding. It’s a cliché, he knows, but suddenly all the stress he didn’t know he was carrying just melts away.

“So you’re not mad or anything?”

“Of course I’m not,” she stands up and moves over to sit next to him on the couch, “A little peeved that you didn’t tell me first, yes, but not mad. If I’m being honest, I kind of saw this coming. You two have always been close, yes, but recently you’ve been… different, I guess. I’m glad you’re happy, that’s all.”

Dan tries to duck as she reaches out to ruffle his hair, but she’s too quick and he doesn’t really mind all that much anyway. He tries to smooth down his hair as he gets up to go back to his room. Halfway up the stairs he turns around and jumps down enough stairs to stick his head back into the living room and say, “Could you send me that photo?”

She laughs, but his phone buzzes in his pocket a few seconds later and he unlocks it to save the photo to his camera roll. Even if it’s all fake, it’s still a cute picture. Maybe he’d show Phil. Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mother knows best  
> (sorry this is kind of late, i had writing class this week so i wasnt quite ready to post but i dont wanna disappoint so here it is!)


	9. the not-so-prodigal son

“I’m not doing your homework for you, Phil. Just because I’m your pretend boyfriend doesn’t meaning I’m gonna do your work.”

“Then why are we even pretending to date?”

At that, Dan rolls his eyes and throws his backpack on Phil’s bed. Six hours of school was too much to take all at once, and as much as he loves Phil, he’s exhausted. They should really work on that, what’s the point of going so long if you’re not even gonna remember it at the end of the day. His mind is an empty wasteland.

“But seriously,” Phil begins, sitting on the bed next to where Dan had almost fallen asleep. He really hates Phil right now.

“No, Phil,” he closes his eyes and settles down in the bed. Nap time.

“It’s not about that,” Phil starts again, “You’re really good at all this writing stuff. I know it’s already October, but I still think you should consider switching classes.”

Dan sits up finally, rubbing his eyes. It’s a conversation he’s had _many_ times, with _many_ people, especially himself. Miles of pros and cons lists in his head and he still hasn’t any idea what he should do.

“I want to,” he finally says, “I know I’m good at it, and I _want_ to do that, but you know how much Grey hates me after I had his class two years ago.”

Phil nods, sympathetic, and shrugs as he says, “It would be good for you, that’s all.”

“Fine, I’ll do it.” He caves, and he’s not proud of it, but at the same time he is. The little voice in the back of his head has been telling him this the entire time, ever since he ticked that box at registration last year, he knew it was a mistake.

But with all the mistakes he was making lately, he wanted to set one thing right. The smile Phil gives him tells him he’s fixed it for once and he’s made up his mind.

<+><+><+>

He regrets it almost immediately, stepping into the classroom Monday morning.

“Ah, Mr. Howell.” Dan had forgotten how grating that voice was. “Come crawling back for more?”

“Hi Mr. Grey,” Dan tries to say it without sounding bitter, but it doesn’t really work. “Where do I sit?”

“There’s a seat in the back next to your boyfriend,” Grey waves a hand in the direction of the far side of the room, apparently too focused on giving people F’s on their papers to even look up.

Dan huffs out a breath and follows Phil, who has been standing behind him quietly the entire time, back to the desks.

“So far, so good?” Phil asks once they’re seated.

“It could’ve gone worse,” Dan says as the bell rings, “but there’s still time.”

<+><+><+>

“That was the worst class ever,” Dan complains as they walk down to lunch. The moment the class had started, everything had started going downhill for him. The very first thing Grey had said to the class was that “the not-so-prodigal son has returned to higher learning, but we’ll see how long he lasts this time”, and that really set the precedent for the rest of the day.

“I have to admit, the confetti may have been a bit overboard,” Phil offers. They join everyone else who’d arrived before them, already sitting at the table and eating.

“Congrats on moving up in the world.” PJ says before Dan even sits down, “Us lowly peasants will try to survive without your presence gracing us every day.”

“Of course,” Dan says as he wedges himself into the seat between him and Louise, “I’ll be sure to keep you updated on all the amazing hell I’ll be going through for a better education.”

Louise frowns at him. “Was it really that bad?”

“It kind of was,” Phil pipes up from the other side of the table. “I forgot how terrible Grey treated you last year.”

Looking up from where he’d been mindlessly mushing his sandwich, Dan finds that Phil is already smiling at him. It was a little guilty looking, but a smile nonetheless. A foot knocks into his under the table as everyone else moves onto a new topic and he feels himself smile back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (pretend this aint a week late. i swear i was gonna update on tuesday, and then wednesday, but the site was down. i mean, that's still like four days late but i dunno, i've been in a super-non-productive place lately so. sorry.)
> 
> (good news is, two updates in two days! yay!)


	10. this day will never come again

“I swear, if you make me watch _V for Vendetta_ one more time, I’m throwing your laptop out the window.”

Dan laughs and gets off the bed to sit on the floor by his stack of DVD’s.

“Fine, fine. Ruin the holiday spirit, I get it. What do you want to watch instead? _Submarine_ , _Scott Pilgrim_ , _V for Vendetta_ …?”

“ _No_.”

He has to bit his lip to stop from laughing again. “Something else then?”

“I don’t really care,” Phil says and leans back against his pillow, stretching like a cat.

Somehow Dan had convinced him to ditch the bonfires and watch movies with him instead. Although, it was less Dan’s convincing ability and more Phil’s inability to say no to him. They’d already watched what Dan deemed “all the _good_ Star Trek movies” and Dan had made him sit through _V for Vendetta_ twice.

“Here.” Dan climbs back onto the bed and picks up the laptop again, feeding the disc into the slot on the side. He makes grabby hands towards Phil until he rolls his eyes and passes him the bag of crisps on his other side.

Phil sits up a little, leaning in so he can see the screen fully. Even though he knew he was going to fall asleep in a couple of minutes, he still wanted to seem like he was paying attention.

“You can sleep if you want to,” Dan says once Phil starts drifting off, “I’m sorry if I’m keeping you up.”

“No, it’s fine,” Phil says, a little rough with sleep. A glance at the laptop tells him he’s been out for at least half an hour and he undoubtedly has marks on his face from leaning on Dan’s shoulder. The screen dims for a second before Dan touches his shoulder and Phil’s head jerks up.

“You fell asleep again.” Phil rubs his eyes and looks up at Dan, outlined by the light of the movie.

“Yeah,” Dan continues, “I’ve moved onto another movie, it’s been a while. But I thought you might want to see the fireworks, they’ll be going off any minute now.”

A quick glance out the window tells him it’s well past dark, probably hours since he last remembers being awake. Phil yawns, wide enough that his jaw makes an uncomfortable cracking noise.

Dan winces. “That sounded like it hurt.”

“Just sleepy,” he yawns again, not as much as the first time, and sits up straight again, “Fireworks time?”

“Yes, Phil, fireworks time,” he laughs a little, softer in the dark, and moves to the side so Phil can sit up fully. When he does, Phil starts sliding and Dan has to move back in to prop him up. He’s still not fully awake, that much is obvious.

“Come on,” he crawls to the end of the bed and sits with his feet dangling out the window, waiting for Phil to eventually follow. The November air quickly seeps through his thin socks, but he feels warmer when Phil inches down the comforter and adheres himself to Dan’s side. A warm feeling spreads through his body, something strange but comforting.

Phil is still so asleep that the _bang_ of the first fireworks don’t even phase him. He leans his head against Dan’s, still wrapped up in his blanket, and barely opens his eyes to see the lights hissing overhead.

“You’re missing all the fun,” Dan whispers after a while, “Look, that one’s the color of your eyes.”

Phil blinks slowly before tilting his head up at the sky just as another firework whizzes past and explodes overhead. The blue-green light fills the night and when Phil looks over, it’s to see that Dan is already looking at him. Every single imperfection of his skin, every freckle, every stray hair, every part of him that Phil loves, all bathed in the light of the fireworks.

He closes his eyes again, leaning in just enough to connect their lips. Dan sighs and he can feel it against his lips. Even with his eyes closed, he can still see the flashing colors of the fireworks, but when Dan’s hand touches his cheek, he isn’t entirely sure he’s not just imagining them.

Too tired to continue, Phil pulls away, only to go back to his place leaned up against Dan’s side. When Dan’s hand reaches back out to lace with his, he sighs gently and falls back asleep to the sound of exploding fireworks and quiet breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i said i would post twice last week but i have The Worst writers block atm and even formatting its too much productivity for me to handle in this spiraling abyss of darkness and lack of creativity. 
> 
> BUT i mega promise an update next friday and saturday, the next two chapters are meant to go together and also i love them. in the meantime, have a fun fact: original title of this chapter was 'v for very conflicted feelings covered in softness'
> 
> (for maximum trashiness and despondency, listen to interrupted by fireworks while reading)  
> (i am so so sorry)  
> (extra trash level: the title's a quote from ffvii. sorry again.)


	11. i don't know about this world

Despite the fact that Dan was supposedly “the smart one” now, he still spends most of his time whining about homework instead of actually doing it.

“You’re terrible,” Phil tells him. They’re in his living room, Phil playing on his DS and Dan lying on the floor with his math notebook in front of him.

“Like you’re any better?” He throws his pen on the floor, watching as it rolls away and lands against the wall with a faint _plink_. Phil shakes his head and leans over the edge of the sofa to look at his notebook.

“I already finished mine,” he says, “and you’ve got 'two x' instead of 'x to the power of two'.”

Dan groans and sits up against the foot of the sofa, almost knocking his head into Phil’s. When’s he ever going to use algebra in real life? It’s not like he’s planning on being a math professor or an accountant or anything. Not that he really knows all that much about what he wants to do anyway.

“Come on,” Phil nudges his shoulder with one hand, “you can do this. You’ve only got five questions left, let’s just get them over with so I can kick your butt at Smash.”

Dragging the text book across the carpet, Phil leans down to read the next problem. This puts his face even closer to Dan’s, on accident of course. And then, by sheer coincidence, he has to lean in even further to read the small text in the book, a legitimate enough reason.

As Phil rests his chin on Dan’s shoulder and reads about insines or coverses or whatever, Dan does his best to be subtle about his deep breaths. It’s a little hard to breathe normally with Phil so close, and with his heart beating this fast he’s a little afraid Phil will be able to hear it.

“It’s just a normal sine graph,” Phil says.

 _And this is just a normal thing we used to do all the time_ , Dan thinks to himself, _but it still makes me feel like I’m having a heart attack_.

“Yeah, I know.” He doesn’t know. He has no idea about anything. All he knows is it takes all his self-control to not turn his head to the side and kiss Phil on at least the cheek.

He makes it through the homework with only a few near misses, politely declining to stay for dinner when Phil’s mum wanders through. Instead he chooses to go home to stare at his ceiling until it grows dark.

He still doesn’t have any answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from [this](http://ampersandreview.com/2014/04/ten-of-spades-by-caroline-cabrera/) which makes me cry.
> 
> the past week or so ive been just absolutely devouring friends and ive gotten to the part where (spoilers?) joey has the worlds biggest crush on rachel. that added to this chapter added to my own life is v. kay.
> 
> bit of a short chapter but also update tomorrow!! its a good one, im v excited :)))


	12. it's a switch flipped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just imagine its an unseasonably warm november.

> dan (3:42 pm)
> 
> _every time i look @ him i feel like i swallowed an entire thing of pop rocks or smth pj wtf is this_

When PJ calls him five minutes later, he’s sitting on the floor of his closet. It’s the darkest part of his room, especially in the middle of the day, and the blank blackness is soothing. With nothing to focus on, it’s easy to forget to think.

“Go to the park,” PJ says when he picks up, skipping the pleasantries. “I’ll be there in a minute, meet me on the swings.”

“Alright,” Dan slowly pushes open the door, squinting at the midafternoon light assaulting his eyes.

“And Dan?” He lifts the phone back to his ear. “Breathe.”

He nods and hangs up, belatedly realizing PJ couldn’t see him.

It takes him longer than usual to walk the three blocks to the park halfway between his and PJ’s house. He sneaks out the back door, crossing through the woods behind his house just to make sure he doesn't accidentally run into Phil on his way out. That would be a disaster.

It’s easy to lose track of time among the trees, where the leaves stop the light from making it all the way through and it always feels like twilight. He ends up completely off track and only remembers where he was supposed to be going when PJ texts him a single question mark.

“It took you long enough,” PJ says, dragging his feet along the ground when Dan finally gets there.

“Got lost in the woods.” Dan takes the sagging seat next to him and wraps the rusty chains around both hands, the voice in the back of his head that sounds like his mother warning him about infections.

“Are you doing okay?” PJ spends no time beating around the bush. “You sounded really messed up about something.”

Sighing, Dan lets go of the chains, brushing his hands across his jeans before rubbing his eyes.

PJ doesn’t say anything, swinging next to him in silence while Dan tries to collect his thoughts. That’s one of the best things about having PJ as a friend, besides his endless creativity and positive outlook on life. He’s as great of a listener as he is storyteller.

“I’ve never,” Dan starts, “I don’t- I’ve never felt this way before.”

He sighs, listening to the creaking of the swing set.

“I love Phil. I don’t know how, or why, or if I actually do or what it even is but- I love him.”

“I don’t think anyone ever really does,” PJ says. Another good quality of PJ’s: he knows when to joke and when to take things seriously.

“I get that,” he sighs gently and kicks at the pebbles at his feet, “but at the same time, I don’t? I’ve never wanted this before. I’ve never wanted to hold someone’s hand or kiss them just to kiss them or do nothing all day but watch movies and cuddle. Is that what love is? Why don’t I know?”

It’s frustrating. Normally he’s actually okay with admitting he doesn’t know something because he can always find out what it actually is, but in this case he doesn’t even know what he’s supposed to know.

PJ swings backwards a little. “Have you ever heard the term ‘demiromantic’?” He asks.

Dan hasn’t, but something tugs at his stomach, something that says “yesyes _yes_ ” and pulls him forward slightly in his seat.

“It’s a kind of romantic orientation,” PJ goes on to explain, “where you only feel romantically attracted to someone once you’ve already formed some sort of deep emotional bond with them. Like being friends, for example.”

“Oh shit.”

Everything seems clearer all of a sudden, like how people describe getting glasses for the first time. Growing up with his friends teasing each other over crushes, having to sit through movie after movie being lost whenever romance was involved, Valentine’s Day going completely over his head every year. And then the wanting to hold Phil's hand and brush back his hair when it falls in his eyes, the falling asleep trying not to lean his head on Phil's and the walking down the sidewalk and seeing flowers and wanting to give them to him.

Every romantic thing that unsettled him and every subsequent urge to do romantic things that made him feel unbalanced, it all fit in a word.

“Is that a good ‘oh shit’?”

When he glances back up, PJ looks mildly concerned. It’s funny how it’s the exact opposite of how he feels.

“There’s a word for all of this.” Dan waves a hand to encapsulate all of himself. He vaguely feels like he could cry. “There’s a word for all of me.”

That’s when he actually starts crying a little, tears casually dripping off his face and onto his lap. He isn’t sad or emotional, really, it’s just so overwhelming to find your entire self in twelve letters. He’s crying, but he’s laughing as well, and it’s  a weird dichotomy, but that’s his life now he supposes.

PJ lays his hand on Dan’s shoulder, both of them still swaying gently on their swings.

“So I was working on my research paper for history earlier…” PJ starts talking just to fill space. It isn’t anything important or world changing, and it gives Dan the space to mentally check out and reevaluate his current situation. It’s nice.

Eventually, though, PJ has to leave for dinner, leaving Dan to wander home through the woods by himself.

Back in the green, the comforting wet smell of leaves and dirt feels like a heavy blanket over his senses. He’s calmer than he was the last time he was here, still with most of the same problems, but feeling a little better equipped to deal with them.

He feels steady, despite all that internal turmoil. On his way home he stumbles across a thin creek, overflowing from the last night’s downpour. He takes a picture of the ferns growing on the side of the water and sends it to Phil.

> phil (5:16 pm)
> 
> _woods exploration? need an adventuring companion?_

Dan lays back on the flat rock he’s found, lying in a patch of sun where the trees don’t quite overlap. He’s about to text back yes, wanting someone to talk to about all the things he knows now, when a mosquito lands on his arm.

> dan (5:23 pm)
> 
> _nah too many bugs. u wanna come over?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is :') my fav chapter :') so far :')
> 
> (title from "[bravado](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=amQVZcd65j4)" by lorde, my no. 1 trans jam that also works so well w this.)
> 
> anyway, see you next friday for ur totally regularly scheduled update


	13. the mum friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there'll be more in the end note but jsyk this chapter makes a lot of generalizations about like mother figures as good people and i just wanna warn you bc even writing it made me feel kinda uncomfortable so if u have a shit mum like me, here's ur warning

Phil had never really thought about it before, but as similar as he and Dan were, they were still different people. Everyone always treated them as one unit, and rightly so as they rarely did things apart, but they were still separate people. For example, where Dan has every feeling basically written on his face and needs to talk things out to make sense of them, Phil goes through every possibility inside his head before so much as opening his mouth. That's not to say that he's completely emotionless, or that Dan is too open, just that they have different ways of processing things.

That's where Louise comes in.

There was a good reason why they called Louise the mom friend, and not just because she always had snacks and gave a lot of hugs. She was empathetic, observant, and gave great advice. The fact that she was a great baker was just a bonus.

"You're gonna overbeat the eggs, calm down."

Phil looks up from where he's been staring blankly at his mixing bowl for who knows how long.

"Sorry."

He hands Louise the eggs and she dumps the bowl over into her own evenly measured flour and sugar and whatever. Phil's been baking with Louise for years and he still doesn't really know how any of it works; all he knows is he's good at whipping cream and stuff like that.

It had been a Sunday morning with nothing to do when Louise had texted him something about a cousin's birthday party and enlisted his help to make what seemed to be enough cookies to feed a medium sized navy. They'd already gotten through the first three batches of peanut butter ones when Phil decided to take a trip to introspection town.

"Earth to Phil." Louise waved a hand in front of his face when he was silent for another five minutes. When he apologized again, she shook her head as she said around a spoonful of cookie dough, "I'd feel insulted if I didn't know how much you loved baking too. Seriously, what's up?"

There was a streak of flour across the black granite counter and the contrast was suddenly fascinating, but when he feels Louise's hand on his shoulder and sees that same motherly concern coloring her face, he can only sigh.

"You doing alright, dandelion?"

Smiling at the familiar nickname, Phil feels better for a second. He gets as far as taking the other spoon from the mostly empty bowl before he sighs again.

"Have I ever told you how much I love Dan?" His mouth is sticky with peanut butter and it's not the question he meant to ask but it works just as well.

"I can't say it's come up before, no." She smiles at him but still looks a little suspicious as she takes the empty spoon from him and sets it in the sink. She gestures him towards the rest of the dough and sets him to work measuring them out and arranging the balls on the cookie sheets. It's methodical and comforting, repeating the same motions over and over, and it's exactly what he needs.

"I imagine it's a lot, though," she continues. "You two have always been closer than I thought humanly possible. All those times I tried to set you up romantically, I knew what I was on about."

"Did I tell you the part about how we aren't really dating?"

That finally gets her full attention. Dropping the bag of sugar she'd been measuring and almost spilling it all over the counter, she crosses her arms and turns around to look at him.

"What."

Two seconds of borderline glaring is all Phil can take before he completely breaks and tells her the entire story.

The cookies lie forgotten on the counter as she gasps and awes at all the right parts (he has to tell the bit about Guy Fawkes night twice, she was too busy aww-ing the first time around to hear all of it). By the time he's done, the tray in the oven is close to inedible.

"You're totally fucked," she says over the sound of both the smoke detector and the timer. Phil laughs and gets up to join her in fanning the smoking oven. Somehow they had ended up sitting on the floor, around when he was telling the story of Dan's disastrous fourteenth birthday party and how he ended up replacing his punch-stained clothes with some of Phil's (that moment was somewhat fundamental to his whole feelings thing, it was necessary to include).

Phil turns to the tray still sitting on the counter and goes back to rolling out balls of dough as Louise tries valiantly to salvage _something_ from the burnt mess.

"I mean it, you're definitely screwed." The running water in the sink is loud, but the ringing in his ears is even louder. "But luckily you've got me."

"Lucky, huh? How would that be, Miss Sticks-Her-Nose-In-Everyone-Else's-Business?"

"I resent that accusation." She ignores his mumble of "more like resemble" to continue, "You're incredibly lucky to have me because I'm gonna help you with this."

At that, Phil doesn't say anything. There isn't anything to say.

"You're not actually my mum, you know that, right?" He eventually asks, but they both know he means it affectionately.

"Someone needs to make sure you lot take care of yourselves, alright." She smacks him with the nearest spoon before launching into whatever was next on her mind. The topic was abandoned for now, but Phil knew it would come back around like things always did with Louise and everything would get a little better.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES I KNOW I HAVEN'T UPDATED IN A MONTH
> 
> and i'm not sorry? well no i am sorry, really i am, but i've had absolutely terrible writers block this whole time basically and i've had like. hah. an actual breakdown for part of it.
> 
> and this chapter's a little lame sorry but i wanted to write something about phil and louise bc they're the lovely glitter buddies but also this chapter was hell to write so is probably also hell to read, sorry 
> 
> i promise the rest is better tho  
> promise


	14. holding on tight and sleeping at night

The next month passes with relative ease.

Perhaps too _much_ ease.

Phil had been right; they hardly had to change any outward acting, since they were already so close to acting like they were dating. It was so easy to let himself fall into the routine that Dan almost completely forgot about to worry about the birthday party. It still lurked in the back of his mind, but it was easy to look past when Phil didn't say anything either.

The bell rings one Friday afternoon as Dan is packing up his things and he goes to ask Phil what they're doing after school only to find he's already gone, bolting out the door as soon as its opened. He'd been acting fidgety all day, but Dan was less worried the longer it went on so he just shrugs it off and heads down the main stains.

Before he could finish wading through the surge of people heading towards the buses, he sees Phil next to his locker from down the hall, bouncing on his toes.

"Dan!" He almost has to shout to be heard over the rest of the school. "Guess what!"

"You're finally gonna tell me what you've been so twitchy about all day?" Dan says as he finally gets his combination right after four tries and dumps almost everything from his bag inside.

"Yes," Phil replies as he takes the rest of the books from Dan's hands, shoves them in the locker, and slams it shut. Before Dan can pretend to be worried about his stuff, Phil grabs his now empty hand and pulls him around the corner into a less crowded hallway.

"Whoa, where exactly are we going?" Dan asks as he lets himself be pulled. "Are you kidnapping me right now?"

They come to a stop outside an empty room that Dan recognizes as Phil's math class.

"What're we doing here?"

Phil still doesn't answer his question, instead opening the door and motioning him inside, practically vibrating with excitement. A little more wary, Dan follows, half expecting people to jump out at him as he does.

"You know my birthday still isn't for another eight months or something, right? Now's not the best time for a surprise party."

"That's not why I brought you here," Phil says. "Well, it kind of is, but not like that. I wish I could've held out till then, but I just can't stand it any longer."

He waves in his face the envelope Dan hadn't noticed he was holding. "Guess what I've gotten us."

Once Phil stops flailing enough for him to read it, Dan sees that the return address looks vaguely familiar. 

"Train tickets to the moon?" Dan jokes as he tears open the top; the glue is too strong to get at the pieces of paper inside otherwise.

" _Muse tickets_?"

"Yes!" Phil shouts back. "I won them on this radio thing last week and they came in the mail this morning. That's why I couldn't hang out last Friday, because I wanted to win them for your birthday, but they came this morning and I couldn't _not_ tell you."

Dan, still holding the tickets in one hand, launches himself at Phil and tackles him in a hug. Still full of pent up excitement from keeping the secret the whole day, Phil squeals a little and hugs him back, bouncing up and down. They both start to laugh as the idea sets in a little.

The hard edges of the cardstock tickets bite into the palm of his hand and Dan pulls back a bit to look down at them. "I can't believe you even won these," he says. "How'd that happen?"

"It was one of those 'seventeenth caller' things, I don't even know how I did it. I mean, you know how unlucky I am usually, but this time..."

"This time you won," Dan finishes for him."This is so amazing!"

"I know right?" Phil takes the tickets and continues, "Plus, I looked it up and these are actually really good seats, up on the sides on stage left, so we'll be able to see everything."

Dan shakes his head in disbelief. "I can't believe you got me Muse tickets for my birthday, how am I supposed to top that for yours?"

"You've still got a while to think about it," Phil says. "Now come on, we've gotta go find the rest of the guys so we can rub it in their faces."

One arm still slung around his shoulder, Dan follows him into the quieter hallway that now fills with Phil's excited chattering and optimistic plans.

<+><+><+>

"You’re not getting a Christmas present, by the way," Phil says over the sound of Dan kicking around fallen leaves. His own hands are stuffed in his pockets in an effort to avoid the piercing autumn air, but it doesn't seem to bother Dan as much as he happily goes out of his way to step on every single leaf.

"Of course." Dan shakes his head and fondly rolls his eyes. He couldn’t care less, if he’s honest. That just made his entire month and he feels as though nothing can bring him down now.

"But," Phil asserts as they split up to head to their respective houses, "you still have to get me something. Don’t think you’re off the hook or anything."

"I wouldn’t dream of it," Dan says, leaning against his own doorway as Phil struggles with his key. "Although how I’m going to top this, I don’t know. I’ll find a way, though, don’t doubt I will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel a little bit better abt posting now that that last chapter's FINALLY done with.


	15. right out of the blue

Dan blinks and suddenly it’s a week before Christmas and he still hasn’t gotten Phil a gift. He’s already thought of a great birthday present, which isn’t for another month, but it only way works in his master plan to tell Phil how he really feels if it’s for his birthday.

He has absolutely no idea what to do still and it’s _killing_ him. For the past hour he's been sitting glumly at the kitchen table with a notebook open to a page titled “Christmas Presents for Phil???” and he still has no idea. Every once in a while a family member will wander through, see the page in front of him, and suggest a thing or two, but nothing is right. Just as he's contemplating giving up and getting Phil another sweater, his mum comes in and sits in the chair opposite.

“Alright, let’s do this,” she says, pulling the notebook across the table to her. Dan doesn’t even look up from where he’s sadly cradling his head in his hands.

The page is almost entirely blank, aside from a few things scribbled and immediately scratched out here and there. She studies it for a few moments before saying, “Some of these are pretty good…”

“But none of them are _right_.”

They both sigh at the same time, him in despair and her in amusement. When he realizes she's shaking her head fondly in laughter, he pouts at her, offended.

“I know it’s probably not what you want to hear right now,” she says, “but you two are really cute.”

He raises an eyebrow as she continues, “I mean, I've been waiting a while for you two to genuinely get together, and I'm glad it's finally happened because you both seem so happy. I know it’s probably weird, since I’m your mother and all, but I was rooting for you two. So it’s a little adorable to see you so worked up about this when you’re basically in the same position as you were only a year ago.”

“It’s _not_ the same, though. I feel like the expectations are different now that we’re, you know, dating and stuff,” Dan tries to explain. It's not entirely true, but he does feel like he expects more of himself at the very least now that he knows he's completely romantically enamoured of Phil.

His mum slides the notebook back to him and raises her hands in surrender. “All I’m saying is that it isn’t. He’s still Phil, you’re still Dan, and you know that whatever you do, he’s going to love it.”

She ruffles his hair as she heads to the living room, leaving him staring at the paper again and reconsidering what he thought wasn’t good enough. Maybe some of these wouldn’t be completely awful…

<+><+><+>

A very different conversation, however, was happening next door at the Lester house.

“I’m going to say it again, I don’t think this whole charade is a good idea.”

Phil groans and slides sideways on the couch. His mother is in the armchair opposite, cradling a mug of coffee and wearing an all too familiar disappointed look. All he wanted to do was play video games in peace, but as soon as he mentioned Dan’s present she wouldn’t stop hounding him.

“I just think it’s going to blow up in your face and wreck something fundamental in your relationship,” she explains. “You really ought to just tell him and get it over with before there’s nothing left to salvage.”

Phil regrets ever mentioning that he might’ve had a crush on Dan before this whole ordeal started. His mum's always been able to read him like a book, and as soon as Phil had told her they were “dating”, she had known what was really happening.

Of course, she didn’t know any of the other things that made him want to keep doing this. She didn’t know the way his chest expanded every time they held hands, she didn’t know about the smiles they shared every time one of their friends looked away. She definitely didn’t know about what had happened on Chris’s birthday (and she never will), and she'll never understand how Phil still relives it every single night before he goes to sleep.

“It’s not that simple,” he sighs, face smushed into the pillow he’d fallen on.

“I really think it is,” is all she says. Phil wishes he could say the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (title from "[expectations](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FX9ubY2yPz0)" by belle & sebastian, the full lyric is 'tell your mum what to expect, she says it's right out of the blue' bc i thought it was appropriate and the title fits as well and also i love that song so. (look, its better than the original of "[tangled soundtrack plays loudly in the distance]", okay?)
> 
> this chapter is late for a reason bc its almost christmas in fic time but its not even halloween in real life and it makes me feel WEIRD so i was trying to rearrange and put some more chapters in before this but i gave up, it would fuck up the flow
> 
> so anyways, sorry about that, get ready to get Festive as Hell november 6th bc im busying until then


	16. ambedo

Christmas morning, Phil wakes up to someone throwing themselves on the bottom of his bed. He sits up so fast his head hurts and has to wait for his head to stop swimming so he can process the sudden brightness in his room. He cracks open one eye to see it’s PJ and Louise, with an equally tired looking Dan standing behind them.

“Why?”

“Christmas!”

Dan shrugs in the background, rubbing his eyes once before glaring at the back of PJ’s head. “They woke me up two minutes ago,” he says in lieu of an actual explanation. “Same answer and everything.”

“Well, now that we’re all together, we can tell you,” Louise says. PJ swings the backpack he’s wearing off his shoulders and unzips it, pulling out a bunch wrapped boxes and piling them on Phil’s bed.

“It’s present time!” He says and passes out the right gifts to the right people.

Dan barely catches the one thrown at him as he says, “Wait, why didn’t you tell me earlier? All mine are back in my room still.”

Shaking her head, Louise passes Phil a flat box wrapped in familiar blue wrapping paper. “We grabbed them before we left,” she explains. “They were just on the desk so we didn’t bother you about it.”

“Great invasion of privacy,” Dan says, but he sits on the bed and worries the edge of the first gift anyway. Phil moves over a little so they can all actually fit and PJ counts down from five before they each tear into a gift.

The sound of ripping paper fills the room and Louise is the first to get hers open, probably because she completely decimates it with no concern for whatever is inside.

“Oh Dan, thank you!” She lifts the floaty scarf out of the tattered wrapping paper. “This is from that shop by your aunt’s, isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” he says, still trying to unwrap his own gifts. He finally enough of the tape covering it off to find that it's a stack of books on filmmaking.

“You’re always complaining about having no idea what I’m talking about,” PJ explains as he pulls on the hat Louise gave him, “so now you’ll actually be able to contribute when I start going off on Bokeh lighting and scene composition balance. Plus, you’re a total nerd and you’re gonna love reading those, don’t deny it.”

Dan doesn’t even bother, laughing and shaking his head as he carefully puts the books on the desk, away from the carnage. Phil is carefully hanging the framed photo booth prints of him and Louise on the empty space above his bed and PJ is already on his second present so the paper ripping continues, occasionally interrupted by "thank you"s and "oh you shouldn't've"s like they were old housewives, until there’s only two unopened boxes left.

“And I think that’s our cue to go,” Louise says once Dan and Phil start looking at each other weirdly over the gifts.

Most of the discarded wrapping paper gets swept off the bed as Louise stands up, grabbing her presents and PJ’s sleeve before dragging him out of the room and wishing them a “Happy Christmas, lovebirds!”

The room feels a lot colder once all the noise and people have gone and Dan shivers slightly in his too-thin pajamas. Phil notices, of course, and gestures for him to scoot over so they can both fit under the blanket. Neither makes another move after that, however, and they end up sitting in silence for too long to truly be comfortable.

“So this is your present,” Dan finally says, grabbing the flat blue box and practically shoving it into Phil’s face.

“And this is yours.” Phil is a little more gentle about it, but just as eager to get to the actual present opening. He’d put a lot of thought into his gift (probably too much) and was nervous to see how Dan was going to react. “On the count of three?”

Ignoring how his hands are faintly shaking, Dan nods and picks up the square box. It’s heavier than he would’ve expected for such a small thing, but he should know better than to expect normal from Phil.

“A sweater?” He asks once he finally gets the lid off the box. He feels a bit like a magician, pulling all this fabric out of a seemingly bottomless container. “I never would’ve guessed all that could fit in this tiny box. It’s really nice though, it’s so _soft_.” He pulls it over his head, automatically making sure it doesn’t mess up his hair before he remembers he’s got godawful bedhead anyway so it doesn’t matter.

“That was the point. Plus, you look good in blue and you don’t own enough color,” Phil says, still gently pulling the paper apart at the seams. He was one of those people who liked to save every scrap of paper, but not to save or reuse or anything, just because he thought they were pretty.

The suspense is almost literally killing Dan by that point and he’s _this_ close to opening it for him when Phil finally peels off enough paper to see what’s inside.

“A book?” He pulls it out of its tissue paper nest and Dan feels his heart jump up into his throat a little.

“Sort of,” he says as Phil starts to flick through it, “although maybe more like a scrapbook, just not as planned out. It's just a bunch of pictures from our mums, old drawings from school, ticket stubs from the film festival we went to in London, the first birthday card you ever made me, stuff like that, you know. Just a bunch of scraps of junk like that.”

Phil’s arms are suddenly wrapped around his shoulders like a woolen vice. Dan's arms automatically hug him back and in that moment he can feel how tightly Phil is holding on on more than just a physical level. They stay that way for a while, Phil with his present in one hand and his face buried in Dan’s neck and Dan with his sleeves over his hands and hugging back just as hard.

“I picked the right sweater,” Phil says, picking his head up enough to not be speaking directly into Dan’s shoulder. “And you _do_ look good in blue, so I’m double right.”

“I take it you liked your present then?” Dan breathes. He’s a little taken aback by the intensity of the hug, but now that he’s started he doesn’t ever want to let go.

He feels more than hears Phil laugh, still pressed temple to temple. One of the corners of the scrapbook is digging into his back and his hands are starting to cramp where he’s clutching the back of Phil’s t-shirt, but Dan doesn’t feel like moving any time soon, everything red through shut eyes. He could’ve sworn he felt Phil press a kiss to the side of his head before he pulls away and takes a closer look at the book.

“This is from when we were eight?” He asks as he flips past a drawing. “Look, we’re just babies!”

Dan only nods, content to watch Phil absorbs his present. He should probably take advice from his mother more often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (n.) a kind of melancholic trance in which you become completely absorbed in vivid sensory details-raindrops skittering down a window, tall trees leaning in the wind, clouds of cream swirling in your coffee.
> 
> (not a real word, from the obscure dictionary of sorrows, but still very real, if you know what i mean. its my birthday! happy birthday to me)


	17. just the same

"All I'm saying is you're in love so why does it even matter?” PJ accidentally launches his hacky sack into the wall as Dan continues trying to smother himself with the nearest pillow.

It’s December 31st and all day Dan has been jumpy and distracted. If you asked him anything that happened before three that afternoon when the bell rang, he wouldn't be able to tell you anything. Everyone was a little out of it (whose idea was it to have them go back to school before New Year's, was the world just that cruel?) but PJ had noticed the distant look in Dan's eyes and had dragged Dan home with him as soon as classes were over, muttering something about homework help to whoever asked.

His bedroom door hadn't even fully closed before Dan had thrown himself on PJ’s bed and started yelling into the bedspread, coat and backpack and all. PJ had managed to peel off any extraneous snow-coated layers, but after five minutes of trying to convince Dan to stop yelling and sit up, PJ gave up and busied himself with other things. Somewhere between putting away all his clean laundry and re-alphabetizing all his DVDs, however, the groaning had started again, so PJ figured he ought to do something.

Kicking his hacky sack into the corner, he sits down near Dan’s head and waits for him to resurface for air before asking, “You’re nervous about tonight, aren’t you?”

“I’m gonna have to kiss him and I don’t know if I’m going to be able to stop.” The words rush out of his mouth, like if he didn’t say them now he never would.

“You don’t _have_ to,” PJ points out, as someone has to be the rational one. “You could just accidentally be on the opposite side of the room at midnight and ‘miss’ it.” He makes air quotes as he says it, but he knows that Dan actually would miss it. Secretly he's hoping that it'll happen in the end and this will be the thing that finally forces them to get their acts together, but based on what he's witnessed so far, PJ doesn't have that high of hopes.

Dan rolls over, wrapping himself more fully in the comforter and turning towards the wall with a groan.

“But I _want_ to,” he sighs again. All of a sudden PJ is glad Dan's wrapped himself up in a blanket cocoon of sadness so he can't see the exaggerated way PJ rolls his eyes and give him shit for it.

They sit in silence for a while, thinking; PJ about any possible solutions and Dan questioning all of his prior life choices that brought him to this point.

“You have to tell him,” PJ eventually says. “There’s no way around it, you just have to be honest and tell him how you feel. The both of you are hurting way more than you need to be right now, I guarantee it.”

At that, Dan finally rolls himself off the bed. He doesn't deserve anything more comfortable than that.

PJ sighs. "This is gonna be a long afternoon."

<+><+><+>

Eventually Dan heads home to wallow in misery on his own bed, and once the sun starts to set, he goes next door to get Phil so they can head over to Louise’s together. He starts regretting the plan when the still falling snow starts sticking to the ground, but Phil opens the door in his Sailor Moon pyjama pants and glasses before Dan can turn back.

“I thought we were going to Louise’s party thing?” He doesn’t want to get his hopes up that he might not have to face his problems after all, but he’s doing pretty awful at it.

“Everyone else went to their own things and I decided I’d rather stay home alone than have to deal with a drunk Chris,” he explains, shuffling in his socks at the cold of the outside. “Do you wanna hang out here instead?”

Over the background sound of the sirens from _Kill Bill_ , the voice in the back of Dan's head is yelling that this is a bad idea and he’s going to let his guard down and slip up and kiss Phil. But he decides fuck it and steps inside. He’s never been good at taking direction anyway.

<+><+><+>

Several hours later and they’re watching yet another animated movie out of Phil's impressive collection. Dan isn’t quite sure which one, just that it was closest to the couch and Phil couldn't be bothered to move and had stolen all the blankets while Dan got up and put it on.

He’d been able to get some of the blankets back, though, so now they were both ensconced in the cocoon and trying to figure out how to get the bowl of popcorn from the table without losing the warmth.

“Go get it.” Dan shoves at Phil’s arm that’s trying, in vain, to reach it. “I had to put in the disc, you can do this one thing.”

“But I don’t want to,” Phil whines. “You’re already used to the cold, you get it.”

Dan does it just to get it over with. He keeps the bowl to himself for a while in retribution, but he doesn’t fight when Phil grabs at it and puts it not-so-safely balanced on the stretch of blanket covering their knees. It's a very small space, and as Phil leans back again it almost falls over and he has to stay leaned half over Dan so it doesn't.

“That’s gonna tip in about two seconds,” Dan warns, but doesn’t do anything to change it. If the popcorn spills all over the floor, so be it. He knows Phil’s going to be the one who has to clean it up anyway. Phil’s mother likes Dan _much_ better, she wouldn’t make him do it.

Most of the popcorn is gone when Phil makes a small noise of surprise and points at his phone. Leaning over and squinting to see it better, Dan reads the time displayed there.

“It’s almost midnight!” Phil says after he swallows the popcorn he was chewing. "Countdown to the new year!"

Nodding, Dan tugs his sweater sleeves over his hands. How they were still freezing after spending all night in the perfectly warm house, he didn't know. All the blood that had been keeping his hands warm rushed out of them and up into his head as he tried to He’d spent the whole night distinctly not thinking about what he’s going to do that he’s at the point where he needs to make a decision and he has no plan whatsoever.

The clock reads 11:59, but nothing more than that, so Phil starts counting down from five, starting over every time he gets to zero and nothing happens. Dan stares at the screen anxiously and blinks slightly too long every time he gets to the end.

“Three… two… oh, never mind.” Phil shrugs as the time changes in the middle of his countdown. “Happy New Year’s then.”

He doesn’t know why he does it, but Dan leans over and kisses the corner of Phil’s mouth. Just once, just briefly before he has to force himself to pull away. He feels warm and soft, but not necessarily in a good way, more like his heart's a toasted marshmallow that's been left in the fire and is now well on its way to incineration. It's not the first time he's felt vulnerable, but it's the first he feels bad about it.

Suddenly his skin is too tight and his face is on fire. It's so warm tangled up in the blankets with Phil, and where seconds ago it had been a mostly comforting closeness, now it's unbearably too much and Dan just has to _run_. As he tries to free himself from the mess of blankets, he accidentally looks at Phil, and the confusion and sadness there makes him forget to even grab his shoes as he runs out onto the frozen lawn.

It's a good thing the rest of the family is out at their own parties so there's no one around to watch Dan run up the stairs and blink out a couple of tears on the way. He turns on the bedside lamp when he gets to his room, running on autopilot as he glances out the window. The usual feeling of comfort when he sees Phil across the way is absent and he feels like an intruder as he watches Phil stare blankly at his hands.

When he starts to turn and look up out his own window, Dan quickly shuts off the lights, even though he knows it's too late and Phil probably already knew he was there. Dan sits there panting in the almost solid darkness, his heart suddenly racing for no good reason. Maybe it had been the entire time and he'd only just noticed it.

Dan can see out his door and down to the window at the end of the hall. It faces the street and he can clearly hear a couple staggering down the pavement. Either drunk on alcohol or happiness, their laughter echoes in the otherwise quiet night. "Wonder whose arms will hold you good and tight when it's exactly twelve o'clock at night," one of them sings, although it's more of a shout that happens to be rhythmic. Dan kicks the door shut, not even bothering to get off his bed to do it. When his foot finally connects with the wood, he throws himself backwards onto the careless pillows and notebooks and assorted nonsense.

"Start the year out the way you want to end it, right?" Dan whispers to himself in the dark, but it falls flat, lacking the sarcasm it had had in his head. He knows at the very least Phil must have seen a flash of royal blue before it was too dark to make anything out anymore. He wishes it could’ve been less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the kill bill sirens is an inside joke w my friend but also something i experience on a daily basis tbh
> 
> title and subsequent drunken lyrics from "what are you doing new year's eve?", which i love more than most things and recommend either the [ella fitzgerald](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FIcuK7wW8bU) (of course) or [](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aSq1cez_flQ>zooey%20deschanel%20&%20joseph%20gordan%20levitt</a>%20version)


	18. lift between the pitfalls

They don’t talk about it, which seems to be their forte. Life goes on without them, in a way, as they pretend to keep pretending.

Regardless of what’s going on between them, Friday nights in January always mean Dan and Phil are awake too late at night (early in the morning?) playing video games with the sound off.

It's around one in the morning, they're on their fifty-seventh round of Mario Kart, and Phil is just as terrible as usual when Dan glances at the time.

"Holy crap, it's already three," he whispers, suddenly deafening in the quiet house around them. "We should go to bed."

Phil nods, pulls his sweatshirt back on, and wraps a blanket around himself. The scratching sound of plastic on wood as Dan drags the air mattress out from under his bed is like a flock of birds trying to escape a tiny cage. The only sound in the entire house other than it is the boiler in the basement, apparently still on even though Dan's room is freezing.

As Phil lies down on the cold plastic, Dan goes around turning off the remaining few lights and pulling on the sweater from the foot of his bed. Everything is still a stifling kind of quiet, so Dan digs his phone out from where it's been abandoning in his backpack all evening and turns on his playlist of quiet songs to fall asleep to.

Both lie on their backs on their respective beds and stare at the dark ceiling as song after song plays through. When Dan's tired and actually wants to sleep, he only wants to hear soft love songs that he'd vehemently deny listening to in the light and as much as Phil teases him for it, he secretly loves it.

The squeaking of the pleated plastic continues intermittently cuts through the music as Phil tries to get both his head and feet on the mattress at the same time. He's about to give up and try to feel comfortable with his feet on the ground when Dan's voice interrupts him.

"There's no way that can be comfortable."

Propped up on an elbow, Dan peers over the edge of the bed to look at Phil on the floor. "You don't fit at all anymore,” he whispers, “and you've got to be freezing. Just... come up here, okay?"

He slides to the far edge of the bed, leaving enough room for Phil to conceivably fit better than where he currently is.

Pulling his blanket tightly around his shoulders, Phil gets off the floor as quietly as possible and climbs up onto the bed with Dan, who has turned back onto his back and is staring at the ceiling again. He climbs under the covers and drapes his extra blanket over top of the both of them as they watch the shadows cast on the ceiling by the clouded moon.

"Remember that time we put glow in the dark star stickers up there," Phil whispers, "but they were so cheap they fell off overnight and we woke up with them stuck all over our faces?"

Dan laughs softly and points at a spot directly above their heads as he says, "There's still one left, actually. Sometimes when it gets completely pitch black you can see it glow a little."

He lowers his arm back to rest across his chest and Phil tilts his head to the side to look for the star, his ear brushing Dan's shoulder.

"Sorry," he says it faster than he can process what he's apologizing for.

"Not a problem," Dan mumbles, blinking slowly as he pulls the covers up higher around himself. "There's not a lot of room anyways, it's okay. It's... it’s okay." The second time he says it sounds different, but he doesn’t know if Phil can tell. Maybe he can. Dan kinda hopes so.

Phil looks across the room and out the window to where he can see his own bedroom. “Kay," he whispers in reply.

The quiet persists as he moves his head onto Dan's shoulder, who in turn shifts closer until they're tilted in towards each other. Out of the corner of his eye Phil can see the familiar blue of his sweater and curls into him a little more.

Soft guitar filters through the winter white noise as Phil burrows deeper into the blankets. The only brightness in the room comes from the white light of the alarm clock that reads "2:03 AM" and the filtered moonlight behind the curtains. It illuminates their identical expressions of one parts nervousness and two parts calm. The clock ticks over as their faces and speech soften with tiredness.

"Don't you have stuff you need to do with your mum in the morning?"

"Yeah, but you can jus' come along, she won't mind."

"But my clothes are at my house still."

"I've got a sweatshirt and some jeans of yours around here somewhere, just shut up and go to sleep, m'kay?"

"Kay."

Phil scoots closer, the back of his hand touching Dan's for a moment before pulling back a little.

In the dimness their hands find each other and twine together, stiff with cold but thawing in their combined body heat. Synchronized breathing evens out and together they fall asleep.

<+><+><+>

Something was subtly different in the morning. In the night, between the white light of the moon and the warm glow of the sun, the air between them had changed. Where there had been awkwardness and uncertainty before, now it felt like everything was fixed.

They knew it wasn't actually fixed, of course. The issues from before were still there, barely masked by the warmth of the morning, but they had an unspoken agreement to accept it and move on.

So goes the next day, and the day after that, on and on until all the wrinkles between them smooth out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from "[its hard to get around the wind](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LfeZFNEy3nc)" by alex turner (that versions even got bonus ocean noises woo) from the soundtrack for one of my favorite films and the unofficial theme song for this fic (fun fact: they saw it at the film festival mentioned in ch. sixteen) (damn look at that continuity)


	19. ice is slowly melting

It feels like any other day. Phil's alarm goes off, leaving him blinking in the tiny amount of bright light sliding through his window and pulling his blankets tighter around him to keep away the freezing air nipping at his toes. It isn't until he goes to check his phone that he realizes what day it is: his birthday.

Smiling, he looks up, wondering why everything is still shadowy, and sees that there’s something covering the window. There are several pieces of paper taped together over the glass with holes cut out all over. On the opposite wall, spelled out by the light making it through the holes, is “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” and it's no question in Phil's mind who's behind it.

Phil winces as his feet touch the cold floor and quickly makes his way over to the door and the carpeted hallway outside it. Once his numb toes are warm enough on the carpet, he heads down the stairs towards the sound of people in the kitchen.

“Good morning, Phil, happy birthday!” His mother greets him as he squeezes through the doorway past his father, who is trying to both eat a piece of toast and tie his tie but still pauses to ruffle his hair and wish him a happy birthday before heading out to work.

She’s sipping a mug of coffee and sitting at the table across from his brother, kicking him gently in the leg as he tries to say something similar around a mouthful of cereal. Phil takes the empty chair at the end of the table and drinks some of the orange juice there as he says a thank you.

“So,” she continues, “how's eighteen so far? Feel any more autonomous and adult yet?”

“Not really,” he says, piling scrambled eggs on a chipped plate. “I’ve only just got up, so the only thing different is my window.”

“Oh, did you like that?” She asks. “Louise and Dan put that up yesterday afternoon. I was in charge of pulling back the curtains before you woke up. It’s so clever, isn’t it?”

Phil nods and shoves a cinnamon roll in his mouth. (He's allowed to, it's his birthday.) He could just imagine Louise painstakingly tracing out all the shapes, only for Dan to mess it up trying to cut them out with normal scissors.

“Of course it is,” Phil mumbles around his food. 

“I’ve invited both of them over for dinner tonight,” she continues, “along with PJ and Chris. We’re having soup, which I promise will be less lame than it sounds. Oh, which reminds me, here’s something for you.”

The segue was a little concerning but Phil is excited to open the present anyway. She hands him the box from the counter and he rips off the brown paper wrapping immediately. Inside is a pair of knitted mittens and a hat, obviously handmade with its slightly uneven light blue stitches.

“Oh wow,” he says as he puts them on. They’re warm over his ears and fingers, and he can’t wait to use them to-

“You’re thinking about using them to make snowballs to throw at your friends, aren’t you?” 

Martyn doesn’t even look up from his cereal bowl, easily dodging the crumpled up paper Phil throws at his head. Of course, Phil still pushes his chair in further so he can blearily stumble back to his room to sleep for another two hours. 

He's got bigger things to worry about, like how much snow has stuck around since last night storm.

<+><+><+>

Phil is outside Dan’s door not even five minutes later, still in his pajamas and new mittens and hat. He almost forgets to put on shoes, but the cold flagstones of the front step reminds him that he’s only wearing socks before he makes it to the snow. Once he backtracks and pulls on shoes, he knocks repeatedly on the door until a mostly-awake Dan opens it.

“The only reason I’m not yelling at you right now is because I love you and it’s your birthday.”

“Thank you.” Phil hugs the disgruntled Dan, who drops the grumpy façade long enough to hug back. It lasts for several minutes, or at least until Dan’s mum walks past and tells them off for "letting in all the cold air".

“Seriously though,” Dan pulls his friend inside and closes the door behind him, “did you really have to wake me up so early?”

Phil shoves his mittened hands in Dan’s face. “Look at these.”

“Mittens. Exciting.”

“Don’t be mean, my  _ mother _ made these.” He swats at Dan’s arm with one of them, and, in retaliation, Dan steals one and puts it on.

“Oh, this is really nice,” he remarks. “Soft, super warm.”

“Exactly. Now give it back,” Phil grabs at it, “I got used to the warmth, now my hand feels frozen.”

They struggle briefly before Phil just shoves his hand in the mitten alongside Dan’s.

“What are you doing?” Dan asks, but he doesn’t fight it.

Phil takes off the other mitten, putting it on Dan’s hand for him and then does the same thing again as he says, “If you’re not gonna give back my mitten, then I’m gonna make you share.”

It’s weird.

“This is weird.”

“Yeah, kind of. But I’m weird, and so are you.”

“Point taken.”

<+><+><+>

“I got you a present.”

Phil looks up from his pathetically small pile of snow. The snow wasn’t deep enough, or sticky enough, to make an actual snowball, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him. Dan was just standing over him, hands in his pockets as Phil collects all he can.

“No way,” Phil says as he pats the precious little snow he has into a ball around the size of a toddler's fist.

Dan buries his hands further in his pockets, not as lucky as Phil with his extra-special mittens. “Shut up,” he says. "Of course I did.”

“I just kind of assumed,” Phil continued to try to build up his snowball, even though it kept falling apart once it got larger than an apple, “seeing as it  _ is _ my birthday and all.”

Dan sits down in the dusting of snow next to him, still shivering a little. There isn’t even enough snow to worry about his butt getting wet, which should be a sign that Phil’s plan isn’t going to work.

“It’s a good one,” Dan adds after almost a minute of silence, “in case you were worried. It’s a good present. You’re gonna like it.”

Phil gives up and throws down his mini snowball. No matter how much he tries to pack on it doesn’t seem to be growing. He really should’ve seen this coming, if he’s being honest. English snow was never good enough for actually  _ doing _ anything.

“Inside?” Dan suggests. 

Brushing the snow off his new mittens, Phil stands up and offers Dan a hand as he says, “I’ll have to start saving up on snow earlier next year.”

“Saving up on…? Okay.” Dan lets himself be pulled up and leads Phil back inside his house. “I wanna give you your present now anyways.” He takes the stairs two at a time, Phil following slower, and pulls open his top dresser drawer.

“It’s a mixtape,” he holds out the little blue plastic case. Inside is a disc that has “For Phil” written in all caps but still small along the bottom edge and a folded up piece of paper taped to the back.

“Don’t read that yet,” Dan interrupts Phil opening the note. At the strange look he gets, Dan continues, “Just, do it later, okay? When I’m not in the room.”

Phil almost asks why, but he thinks better of it and sticks the note in his pocket for later. “Can I at least listen to it now?”

“Later,” Dan says. “First, birthday movie.”

They had a tradition of going to the cinema every birthday, seeing the cheapest and dumbest action movie they could find, and coming up with different dialogue for every scene. It was a dumb tradition, true, but it was theirs.

“You’ll also probably want to get dressed first,” he adds, remembering that they’re technically both still in their pajamas.

Phil concedes, nodding as he gathers up his present and mittens. He walks down the stairs and calls over his shoulder, “You’re paying for popcorn, though.”

Of course he was, that’s how it worked. Dan shakes his head and starts looking around for any clothes that might be considered clean. At least he’d bought himself some time before he had to explain.

<+><+><+>

It doesn’t come up until a few days later, on Monday at lunch when everyone starts asking how Phil’s birthday went.

“Did you get anything good?” Louise asks around a mouth full of peanut butter sandwich, which she seems to be having some trouble with.

“Yeah,” Phil says. “Mum made me these really nice mittens, Dan gave me this amazing mixtape, and I ate a lot of cake and slept a lot. All in all, a pretty good weekend.”

Louise starts in on how she has a great present for him that she forgot at home, but a part of that first sentence gets stuck on a loop in Dan's head.

“You really like it then?” He leans over to ask while Louise keeps on going.

Phil gives him that strange look again and says, “Yeah, of course I do. I  _ love _ it.” The sincerity in his eyes incinerates Dan’s doubt to something small enough that he can hide it in the back of his mind.

It wasn’t at all the answer Dan thought he was going to get, and he's left again on a teetering island of security, but at least he didn’t blow it. Yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone!! happy almost christmas!! slash happy belated hanukkah bc that was a couple weeks ago and also happy other holidays in this festive winter-y time of year!!
> 
> if u wanna hear dans mixtape!! i made it!! its on my 8tracks [here](http://8tracks.com/mildlydiscouraging/for-phil) (and here's the [tracklist](http://bit.ly/1NPpQ08))  
> (hey, and also, if u wanna make art for this fic or just wanna see everything in one place, post it to/track the [#uqos](http://tumblr.com/tagged/uqos) tag on tumblr)


	20. such a thing

“Too cold, too cold, too cold. Why don’t trains have better heating?” Dan sticks his hands back in his coat pocket, borrowed mittens not enough to keep his fingers from falling off. “Why did we think this was a good idea?”

Looking away from the blur of fields outside the window, Phil says, “It’s only two hours and you wanted to go to that record store so you could find that present for your mum's birthday.”

Dan sighs and leans his head on Phil’s shoulder. “Have they not invented heating for trains? Are they stuck that far in the past?”

Phil halfheartedly pats his knee and turns back to the window. The dead grass and soggy fields outside zip past, dreary and cold under the omnipresent rainclouds in the sky. Personally, he isn’t that bothered by the cold, but when Dan had asked him if he wanted to go out for the day, he’d been expecting a bit more than this.

“How long do we have left on here anyway?” He asks, shrugging his shoulder slightly to get Dan’s attention.

“We’re supposed to get there around eleven, yeah?” 

Phil nods, too lazy to get his phone out to check the time. 

Dan checks the time and groans, "It's only half past ten."

He slides down in his seat until his back is parallel with the floor of the carriage and Phil sighs as he replaces his earbuds. In about two seconds, Dan will be back, leaning into Phil’s space and demanding he share his music, and Phil will let him of course, because he loves him and is also freezing.

<+><+><+>

The third time they pass the same shop, Phil finally says something.

“Dan." He reaches out and grabs Dan’s elbow before he can cross the street again. "You know we’re going in circles, right?”

“What, no! We just cross the street and go past the-“

“The antiques store with the creepy dolls in the window and the delicious-smelling bakery I’ve had to convince you not to go in twice already?” Phil finishes for him.

“Oh." A pause. "We might be lost.”

Phil rolls his eyes and grabs Dan’s hand instead as he turns down the only street they haven’t been on yet. Trust him to leave Dan in charge of directions.

They can't have gone more than five feet before they find the record store Dan had looked up the night before. He didn't really have a plan, but it gets him out of the house and far, far away from his homework, so Dan is grateful.

He's even more grateful when Phil opens the door and warm air comes rushing out. It smells like the mustiness of old books and cinnamon, inexplicably, and the store is a lot larger than Dan expected. One wall is lined with new records in their shiny plastic wrappings that Dan can't help but immediately be drawn to and bins of vinyl, discs, and even tapes in one corner. Posters plaster the walls, grooves in the wooden floorboards circling the aisles, and it's a very comfortable place for it being Dan's first time there.

"That what you were looking for?" Phil's wave encompasses the entire room. "Because even if it's not, we're definitely staying here all day."

Dan laughs and tugs on Phil's arm to lead him across the shop. "This is gonna be so much stupid fun."

<+><+><+>

Each acting as the other's impulse control, the two manage to make it out in an hour without spending all their money.

They stuff the records into one of Phil's many backpacks and Dan helps Phil rewrap his scarf before they brave going back out into the cold wet. Just like before they reached the shop, Phil grabs his hand, holding it solidly as they try to avoid getting run down by damp and irritated pedestrians.

Just outside the building, on the way to the train station that they now knew the directions to, they saw the bakery again, and Phil suddenly let go of his hand and left Dan standing just outside the door. In less than a minute he was back, two hot chocolates in hand, and passes one to Dan with a shy smile.

"To counteract the freezing train," he explains.

<+><+><+>

Living a mile from the train station is great in the summer when walking that far isn't awful, but when it's almost single digit degrees and Dan's forgone his warm coat for his nicer one, it's a bit of a dredge. Phil grabs his hand after a few blocks to keep him warm, he says, and as extremely nice as it is, it doesn't do much to alleviate the burning freeze of his exposed nose and ears.

Thankfully neither of them falls into a snowdrift on the way or cracks their skull on a patch of ice and make it to the house intact. There's nothing to be said for any limbs that may fall off once they defrost, but Dan is willing to take that risk and immediately sheds his mittens and coat.

"You're barely inside and you're already willing to take off the one thing that's been keeping you warm this whole time?" Phil asks. He hasn't so much as moved since closing the door behind him, hands still shoved deep in his pockets.

"Gotta make it easier for the heat to get to me," Dan explains. "Are you going somewhere?"

Phil brushes the hair out of his eyes, staring at the ground when he responds, "Yeah, I've gotta go home, homework to take care of and all." He looks uncharacteristically nervous as his eyes dart between the door, Dan, and the hallway behind him. After a few seconds of apparent deliberation, he steps in and lays a hand on Dan's elbow before ducking in to whisper, "Your mum's behind you so make sure not to give away her present already," into Dan's ear.

Before Dan can respond, however, Phil is turning his head and kissing him on the forehead. He lingers for a second, whispering "Happy Valentine's Day," before he slips backwards out the door.

Dan's arm, having subconsciously reached up when Phil was in proximity, follows him for a moment. Phil's kiss feels like a brand on his skin, except burning with cold and not heat. He doesn't notice the few seconds of icy air that slips through the crack in the door and only realizes how long he's been standing there when his mother walks through and asks if he's alright.

"It's Valentine's Day," is all he can get out. She nods knowingly and pats him on the shoulder on her way out. Apparently she gets it, whatever "it" is. That makes one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel terrible for not updating since??? 2015??? yikes sorry. i hit some really, _really_ terrible writers block (and some other terrible things besides) and i still have no idea how im getting to the end of this or really how i ever planned to, but im excited to see where this is gonna go, i feel like i've grown a lil as a writer in the past three? four months? so i hope you can be excited too (and forgive me for being gone so long)
> 
> fun fact tho: ive been writing this for 574 days now, wow. and now theres an end in sight! 25 chapters! i finished my initial writing last night & am not editing the last five chapters, wowww.
> 
> title from _infinite jest_ by david foster wallace, the entire line is "there is such a thing as raw, unalloyed, agendaless kindness."


	21. charon's coin

With a groan, Dan rolls off his bed and stares mournfully at the rug scraping his face. Out of the corner of his eye he can see his backpack positively staring back at him. It had been lying on the floor untouched since he got home five hours ago and the palpable presence it had has finally gotten to be too much.

Groaning again, he peels himself off the floor and digs through the bag until he finds the untouched homework that's been guilting him all afternoon. He flips open his notebook to read the rubric Mr. Grey had passed out with his usual smirk last week.

"'Write a poem or short essay set to mimic the style and interests of the Romantics'," Dan reads aloud to the empty room. "Due tomorrow, fuck me."

He smacks his head once on the side of the bed next to him before he picks up his notebook once more. Staring at the blank paper, Dan wishes, as he always does, that he had started earlier. In his wishing he forgets his pen on the paper and looks down to see a huge blot spreading over the page and absolutely nothing else. One of these days his procrastinating nature will be the death of him. He just hopes it isn't today.

Another ruined draft sails into the trash as Dan turns back to more mockingly empty paper. What the hell was he supposed to write about anyways? A field? An ocean? The swirling mists of oblivion? _The Romantics are stupid_ , he decides. _Who had time to write about clouds and shit when there were so much more interesting things happening like, I don't know, the Industrial Revolution? Well, clouds are pretty cool, but still._

A glance at the textbook with all its examples reminds him that it was their way of dealing with all the turmoil and uncertainty in their lives, which makes more sense than the suggested phrases or whatever he was trying to work off of.

Maybe it made a _little_ sense. Maybe, by going into themselves and finding the roots of their own issues, the Romantics were applying what they learned on a greater scale. Maybe this was just their way to show the rose-tinted view of their past being corrupted by the progress around them. Despite the fact that the change may have been for the better, it was just too fast for them to process. They just wished they could go back to when everything was easier.

He scribbles a couple of terrible introductions before tearing out the next three sheets in sheer frustration. Nothing he does seems good enough anymore. The crumpled page flies it over his shoulder to hit the closed window with a dull _thunk_.

Glaring at the offending indents of hasty pen marks, he turns around and sees the paper ball below the darkening window.

The disgustingly cliché moment of realization that follows is one thing he's glad no one saw. The frantic writing he does until the sun rises is another.

<+><+><+>

The next morning, when Dan is rolling out of bed and stumbling through his sorry excuse for a morning routine, he grabs the still-warm pages from the printer and runs out the door to meet Phil to walk to school. It doesn't occur to him what he'd written until they're halfway down the block, Phil talking about some TV show his mum made him watch last night and Dan almost stopping in the middle of the road when he realizes he's going to have to actually turn it in.

"Sorry," Phil says. "I'm rambling, aren't I?"

When Dan says nothing Phil changes the subject, familiar with this particular brand of Dan melancholy. "So, how'd your poem go? I assume you put it off these past two weeks and did it yesterday."

Dan kicks loose a bit of sidewalk. "It went as well as it could, seeing as I wrote it at three in the morning last night."

"Wow," Phil says as they walk up the front steps. "Bet yours is still way better than mine, though. I can't wait to hear it later."

He bounds up the stairs and therefore doesn't see the look of terrified revelation on Dan's face.

<+><+><+>

Math is about to end when Dan fights his way through the crowd of people at the door and grabs PJ's arm.

"Peej," he says loud enough to be heard over the impatient kids waiting to leave, "I wrote my English assignment about Phil and we're going to have to share them in class, what do I do?"

PJ sighs. "I can't remember the last time you talked to me without ending a sentence that way." When Dan rolls his eyes at him, he continues, "But I see your problem. Are you sure you can't just say you didn't finish and rewrite it tonight?"

The bell rings halfway through his sentence and they're swept out into the hallway while Dan is saying, "I would, but I'm barely passing that class, and this is basically our final, so I've got to turn it in today or else."

PJ shrugs sympathetically as he backs down a hallway in the other direction. "I dunno, mate," he calls over the heads of the other students, "but good luck!"

Dan groans as he turns around and trudges against the traffic flow to his doom.

<+><+><+>

"Alright class," Mr. Grey claps his hands from the front of the room, "let's get down to business." He is interrupted by a few snickers before he can continue, "Take out your final draft for your Romanticism poem."

The rustle of paper fills the room as he stalks up and down the aisles, collecting them. Dan can feel the worry building when the teacher comes to a stop right by his desk.

"Mr. Howell," he practically sneers. "I'm sure your writing will be as delightful a read as always." Not even making eye contact, he snatches the single page out of Dan's slack hand and leaves him trying to stare down his desk.

As he walks back to his desk, Mr. Grey tells the class, "Please get into pairs and start discussing the questions on the board. I will now go over what I'm certain will be outstanding work from all of you."

Phil scoots his desk across to meet Dan's and pulls out his copy of _Persuasion_. He glances at the board and asks, "Has he always been that terrifying? He seems particularly mean today, I wonder what's up."

"Probably didn't get to finish his bowl of frosted Hell flakes this morning," Dan replies. Somewhere in his bag is his perpetually-missing book. That's definitely why he won't look up.

Phil laughs and turns back to the board just as a weird noise comes from the direction of the teacher's desk. The creepy weezing that passes as laughter continues as Mr. Grey wheels his chair to the front of the room, holding a paper that Dan recognizes the crumpled edges of.

"This is possibly the best thing I have ever read," he says sarcastically, "just listen." He clears his throat while half the class turns back to their work, uninterested.

“’The weeping willow brushes your cheek more tenderly than I ever will. I wish I knew how to love in the right way, but all I know is secrets and silence.’”

The words themselves are beautiful, but his tone makes them grate against Dan’s ears as he waits for the world to end. He genuinely wishes for a lightning bolt or something to strike him through the three floors of solid building above him and into the dirt, but nothing comes.

“The world around me is spinning but I am stuck in the sand, sinking as the Earth tries to swallow back what once belonged to her. Sleeping flowers embrace you and I watch from far away. An entire world is between us and I cannot see through yours to find a way in as the river rushes faster and sweeps you away before I even had an honest chance.’ Dan Howell does it again, I suppose.”

Thankfully he stops there, having read only half the words Dan vaguely remembers writing. No one was paying that much attention by now, used to Grey’s incessant taunting, but Dan still felt his ears burn as the teacher specifically calls him out.

It’s the final straw, and Dan doesn’t look back as he grabs his backpack and speed-walks out the door, no one noticing him leave but Phil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (title & excerpt from a poem of mine)
> 
> okay! so! uqos is officially all written! two weeks ago i finished the initial writing of the last five chapters & have edited the first few. and it only took a year and seven months! holy fuck. once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more.
> 
> ive knocked out a real, honest to god schedule for the rest of it two, so the last chapter comes out exactly a year after the first one, cuz i love symmetry and all that. it goes like this & i'll see u next week!
> 
> chapt. 22 - 24th  
> chapt. 23 - 8th  
> chapt. 24 - 22nd  
> chapt. 25 - 29th


	22. countable and uncountable

Phil finally corners him in an empty stairwell, far away from the sea of teenagers headed down to the lunchroom.

"Dan!" He calls as he rounds the corner. "What is going on with you? Yeah, it was really shit of him to make fun of your poem like that, but this is way out of proportion."

He stops halfway up the stairs, turning around to look down at him. It probably isn't the time, but he can't help but feel a little accomplished at being the taller one for once. When the thought leaves him, though, he feels a little sick.

"It's not that he read it out for the whole class to hear," he says shakily. "It's what he said after."

Phil reaches out to place a hand on his friend's shoulder, trying to comfort him, only to have Dan turn away again.

"Dan," he murmurs, the otherwise silent hallway making the need to be quiet even stronger. When he puts a hand on his shoulder again, Dan lets him, and he can feel when he relaxes and stiffens with every breath.

"Is this because he said it was 'sickeningly sappy'? Because I'm pretty sure that was the point of the assign-"

Dan whirls back around and looks him in the eye for the first time since class had ended, "No, Phil, it's because all of it was true. It wasn't just me writing whatever I needed to get a good grade, I meant every single word and I hate it."

Phil can only look on as Dan sinks to the ground, sitting on the steps and breathing in and out rather rapidly. Snapping out of his confused daze, Phil sits down beside him and starts counting from five to one and back again. It was something they'd come to realize helped with Dan's panic attacks, after too much experience.

Because that's what this was, a panic attack. The walls were sliding closer and closer, like he’s Luke in the trash compactor, and when Dan recognized it, the feeling got worse. He knew he was hyperventilating, but was powerless to stop it as the constant buzzing that was usually background noise became an overwhelming whisper. Nothing could stop it but the counting, _one-two-three-four-five-four-three-two-one,_ and even that didn't help in the long-run.

Phil is familiar with what's happening, which concerns him, and he knows that to do. It gives him some semblance of control, in a non-twisted way. He isn't in control of much anymore, and maybe it was a little selfish, but knowing how to take care of Dan helps.

There's a few minutes of terse silence after Dan's breathing synchronizes with Phil's quiet counting. Then there's a shout from the lunchroom down the hall and they both remember where they're supposed to be.

"Are you okay now? I mean,” he corrects himself, “not _okay_ , but are you feeling better?"

Dan nods, looking off into the distance where the sounds are coming from. When Phil stands and holds out his hand to pull Dan up he says, "Do you wanna tell me what this was all about? Maybe I can help."

Taking the hand offered, Dan shakes his head and stands, saying, "It's not something you can help. Honestly, it isn't something I can help either. I've just gotta suck it up and deal with it."

"You and I both know nothing ever turns out right when you do that," Phil counters, the same well-worn path they've tread before. It feels like a conversation they've had over and over again and he's tired of hearing the same excuse from Dan. "Just tell me what's wrong so I can help you."

"Maybe it's something I don't want your help with," Dan snaps, quiet but harsh. "Maybe for once you should just listen to what I'm saying and back off."

Phil looks at him with weary sympathy. "But I promised, remember? We promised we'd talk to each other about this kind of thing, after all that stuff last year-"

"This is nothing like then, Phil." Dan looks conflicted, stopping where he'd been about to stalk down the empty hallway. "I promise you, it's nothing at all like that."

"Then what is it?" Phil moves forward and tries to catch the other boy's eye from where he's glaring at the ground, "Why can't you tell me?"

"Maybe it's just because I don't want you to know how stupidly in love with you I am." Dan finally forces out, "Maybe I didn't want you to know that all the stuff I wrote in that stupid poem was about you, okay?"

All of a sudden the last thing Dan wants to do is be in the same room as Phil right now, a feeling he's never had before. It feels unsettling, like someone hadn’t necessarily pulled the rug out from under his feet but just tugged on it a little, enough to leave him unbalanced in a place he thought was stable.

His best option seems to be running away from the deafening silence, so run he does. The bell rings in a distant hallway and Dan blends in with the sea of faces, leaving a confused Phil in his wake. He wishes he could say he didn't look back.

<+><+><+>

The next day, Dan doesn’t show up to school at all. He doesn’t even get called out sick or anything, he’s just not there.

Phil had assumed they were still ignoring each other because of reasons. Mr. Grey is handing back graded papers at the end of class and returns both his and Dan’s with a casual “Give this to your boyfriend, eh?” when he finally realizes Dan’s been absent the whole day.  He hadn't even noticed.

He’s walking down to lunch with Louise alongside him when he remembers that the paper in his hand started this whole thing.

“You coming or what?” Louise calls from the down the hall, continuing while Phil stops in his realization.

“Yeah.” He doesn't even look up from the paper. “I’ll be there in a second, go ahead without me.”

Louise shakes her head as he runs back towards his locker to do God knows what. She hopes that it has something to do with whatever had happened yesterday afternoon. Those boys really need to get their shit together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from the wiktionary page for "[sincerity](https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/sincerity)" and like.... grammar in general. idk it just really resonated with me, especially in the context of sincerity in the chapter, and the whole incongruity and paradoxical nature of something being able to have plurality and yet not at the same time.
> 
> also, i'm never going to explicitly state it in the story, but what happened last year was that dan had a series of panic attacks due to stress which eventually culminated in him dropping out of school for a month. his parents explained it away as mono or something and teachers just sent home work with phil (which he did for dan and felt incredibly guilty the whole time for not noticing sooner that smth was wrong). eventually he had to come back and he finished the year, but for the first week of vacation he just stayed inside and watched movies with phil. so, yea.
> 
> its still technically the 24th where i am!!!!!! [runs and hides]


	23. so much is said without a sound

Time has a tricky way of going slower than it ought to when you've finally got something to wait for. It takes a million years to get to one day, and then all of a sudden that's it. Soon as it's gone you find it's been two weeks, you've missed the end of school, and you're left staring at an empty window and breathing in stifling heat and silence.

Of course, as always, there's the chance that there's somebody within shouting distance doing the same thing, but you'll never know because you blew your chance and can't bring yourself to ask for another one because you blurted out the most important secret you've ever kept and then gone and made it worse by avoiding it forever.

And you can keep on doing that, of course, until it's impossible in the back of your mom's car on the way to something you were both so excited about just a month ago, that was going to be the best experience of both of your lives, but is now tainted with unbearably uncomfortable silence.

<+><+><+>

"Phil, I think I might pass out."

"You'll be fine, stop worrying."

"No, I'm serious, I'm going to faint right here in the line."

"You know we don't even have to be here yet, right? I mean, our seats aren't going anywhere. We could just come back later, closer to when the concert actually starts."

It takes all of Phil's willpower to stop himself from banging his head on the wall.

Dan sighs deeply as he leans back against the venue where they've been standing in line for going on two hours. "But what if we miss something? What if we miss the openers or there's some surprise before it even starts and then we completely miss it because I was too nervous to stand up for a couple more minutes?"

"Do you even know if they're any good, though?" Phil replies from where he's sitting on the sidewalk next to Dan's legs, "The opening acts, I mean. For all we know, Bastille and Dizzee Rascals could be absolute rubbish live."

"But they're  _not_ ," Dan says as he slides down the wall to sit next to him. "I looked them up before we left, they both look amazing. It's just gonna make the whole thing that much more amazing and I'm gonna die."

"Well," Phil pats his shoulder, "we've waited this long, there's no sense in leaving now. You'll be fine, it's gonna be great."

Dan crosses his legs as he sits up straighter to lean his head on Phil's shoulder.

"I know," he says. "I'm just really nervous. I mean, aren't you? We're seeing our favorite band, and it's gonna be utterly amazing, but what if it isn't everything I hoped it would be? I've got all these expectations that I know they're gonna get crushed at least a little, but... I'm not ready for that."

Phil looks over at- well, honestly, he doesn't know what to call him anymore- his _Dan_ , and is more than a little concerned by what he sees. He looks pale, paler than even Phil is, and his hands are kind of shaking where he's holding them in his lap.

Leaning over and taking Dan's hands in his own, Phil whispers, "Hey, you doing alright? I understand that this is a big deal, you know I do, but is there something else?"

Grasping Phil's hands, Dan just nods slowly and waits for the right words to come to him.

"With everything that's been happening with, y'know, _us_ lately," he starts, "I don't want it to get in the way. I wanted this to be us having the most amazing night of our lives together without all the other shit getting in the way. Just us. The way it used to be."

Phil gets it exactly. He squeezes his hands once before letting go and standing up. Feet solid on the concrete sidewalk, he offers one of those hands to Dan again and tells him, "We've got a show to get excited for then, don't we?"

Dan takes the proffered hand, smiling as he lets Phil pull him to his feet to stand next to him.

"Yeah, I guess we do, don't we?"

Phil starts talking about the songs he hopes they play and the merch he's going to buy that he shouldn't because he's broke, and as the line starts moving Dan feels right for the first time in a long while.

<+><+><+>

When they find their seats, Phil has to rearrange all the crap he's already accumulated before they can settle in for the long wait before the first opener. Dan doesn't notice, too busy staring at the empty expanse of black carpet. Once Phil finally gets his stuff in order, Dan latches onto his arm and says in a far-off voice, "That's the stage they're gonna be on."

"Right there, Dan, right there," Phil says as he bounces in his seat and grabs Dan's other arm with his own hand. They both giggle hysterically before realizing how ridiculous they must look and tone it down to as casually ecstatic as possible.

The charade lasts until the lights dim and the smoke machines start up. Both opening sets pass in one big blur of equal parts anticipation, loud music, and sheer awesomeness. Time goes by too fast to process anything before it all begins again.

If you asked Dan after, he wouldn't be able to tell you anything specific happening during the actual set itself. The lights were super cool. He may have kissed Phil during Madness. The whole crowd at one point sang happy birthday to Matt and he pretended they were all singing for him. _Phil_ may have kissed _him_ during Starlight. And then the house lights came back up and the show was over.

<+><+><+>

Bound to their seats by ringing silence, both trying to process all that happened, Dan's phone vibrates in his pocket. It’s a text from his mum saying that she was outside, so they head out through the arena halls only populated with weary employees and janitors.

They're both still somewhat high with their post-concert buzz as they wander out to the tired Mrs. Howell trying not to fall asleep behind the wheel of her car.

The car door is flung open and the two tumble into the backseat, still giggling over the fact that they'd just seen _Muse_ perform _live,_  holy _shit_. It's still surreal as she turns around from fiddling with the radio.

"So, I take it the show was good then?"

They both nod violently and then laugh in unison, tilting towards each other as they buckle their seat belts.

"I'm glad you two enjoyed it," she says tiredly, glancing at them in the rear-view mirror with a small, amused smile. "Can't wait for the crash that'll inevitably happen, that'll be fun. Then you'll both be just as tired as I am right now."

She drives on in silence as they go through every detail they remembered for the time being, whispering excitedly everything that would be forgotten eventually.

By the time they pull in the drive, Dan is half asleep on Phil's shoulder, ticket stub still clutched in his hand. His mother turns the car off and the sudden lack of noise in the summer night is startling. She watches in the rear-view mirror as Phil struggles to figure out how to get out from underneath his unconscious friend without waking him up.

"Here," she says gently as she hops out, noticing that Phil himself is not all that awake either, "I've got him."

She props up her son's sleeping form, allowing Phil to slip out the door and stand up waveringly. The movement wakes Dan enough that he can stand up mostly be himself, leaning into Phil who leans back just as heavily.

"Come on, boys." She yawns as she unlocks the door. "We could all use some sleep."

Phil tries to protest, saying that he really ought to go home, but she just continues to push both of them up to Dan's room. As soon as they get to the top, they collapse onto the bed, shoes and all, and curl around each other like a pair of lazy cats.

Mrs. Howell smiles and closes the door behind her. The palpable tension that had sat between them in the car when she'd driven them to the show had somehow melted away into contentedness and, content herself, she goes to join the rest of the sleeping household.

<+><+><+>

The next morning dawns with the bitter taste of awkwardness already on Dan's tongue. The sickeningly familiar taste had grown more and more a reminder of Phil lately, something he resents. Unraveling himself from the tangle of limbs and blankets, he pulls on a hoodie as he crosses the room and pads downstairs with questionable guilt settling in his chest cavity.

His mum is already in the kitchen, afternoon light flooding the room as she stands over the stove and hums tunelessly.

"Hey, sleepyhead," she says and flips another pancake. "I heard someone stumbling around up there, and who doesn't love breakfast for lunch? Have a seat."

Dan nods as the clock on the wall ticks past noon. He pulls up a chair at the island as she puts a plate of finished pancakes next to him and smacks his hand when he immediately reaches for one.

Once he concedes and gets up for a plate, she leans forward on her elbows and says, "So, how was the concert? All I could get out of you two last night was giggling and a lot of wow's and omg's."

Dan tries again, pulling half the stack onto his plate and drowning it in syrup. Mouth full of food, he mumbles something until she glares at him and he swallows, trying again.

"It was really good,” he says, but he sounds deflated. “We were kind of far, but we could still clearly see pretty much everything. Phil almost lost a contact in line though, which would've been disastrous."

He laughs once before trailing off, tracing patterns in his syrup with the tines of his fork.

His mum opens her mouth to say something, a concerned look on her face, when there's a thump from the stairs and Phil appears in the doorway, hair ridiculous and missing a sock.

As he shuffles into the room, rubbing his eyes under his glasses with his sweatshirt sleeve, Dan straightens up almost imperceptibly. She only notices because the past few weeks have taught her to look in places where nothing seems wrong.

"Good morning, Phil!" Mrs. Howell says cheerily to cover up Dan's apparent loss of the power of speech. "Would you like some pancakes?"

At the prospect of food, Phil brightens up considerably, nodding as he takes the seat next to Dan.

Despite Mrs. Howell's attempts at conversation, the dreaded awkward silence descends and only worsens when there's no more food to occupy them. The running water and clink of dishes in the sink does nothing to alleviate the strained quiet that seems to never end or begin.

Phil breaks the silence, bidding them an awkward goodbye before rushing home. He leaves a confused mother and an even more confused son in his wake, something becoming all too common in Dan’s life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from "[sticky thread](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xLlWnhS_hT4)" by local natives. two more to go!!!! holy crap


	24. far and away

The next few days pass like a scene out of Groundhog Day. (Don't think about it, Dan, don't think about watching it with Phil and laughing in your sleeping bags in the treehouse, don't think.) One day impersonating the last, doomed to go through the same events over and over. Maybe it was more like Fight Club; endless monotony, the different days but the same actions, a copy of a copy of a copy. Wake up, eat cereal, stare at the bedroom ceiling, and stay up until it's physically impossible to do so anymore.

The recurring cast of concerned faces is the only thing that marks time. The days, even hours, blur together like a painting touched before it's had time to dry, but the sympathy masks march through like clockwork. First it's only his mom, standing in the doorway and asking what's wrong until his silence deters her. Next PJ, who knew this was coming but still can't figure out the tipping point. Louise, Chris, his dad, brother, the neighborhood kids. Even  _ Phil’s mother _ shows up, and Dan can hear her talking to his own mum at the bottom of the stairs, telling her how Phil's been the same since last week. They start speculating what could've happened to leave them both like this and he hears Phil's mum suggest, “Maybe it's...  _ more  _ than just a little fight.” 

Dan closes his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> posting from the middle of nowhere wisconsin!!!! we're on the highway right now, technology is absolutely amazing, suck it dial up.  
>   
> tiny vignette of awkward times. they're teenagers & they fuck up & don't communicate & it gets weird but that's okay. one more week!


	25. even in darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we watch the sun go down, but never fear the end.

The idea of throwing pebbles at someone's window to get their attention never made much sense to Dan.

First, you're assuming the person is in the room and can hear you, and that they're alone. Imagine standing under someone's window and holding up a boombox with a love song, only to see their mother over their shoulder. What if you broke the window, or scratched it or something? Having to pay to replace a broken windowpane isn't that romantic. 

That being said, when Dan hears a  _ plink  _ sound against his window after a week of nothing, he  _ is _ in his room alone, he  _ does _ hear the rocks hitting his window, and when he walks over and opens his curtains, the glass  _ isn't _ broken, although there are smudges on the outside.

He looks up to see Phil peeking over his own windowsill, his hand raised to throw another...

"Are you throwing Maltesers?" Dan whispers with an incredulous look. He lifts up the glass just in time for Phil's next assault to sail through and hit him in the face before falling to the floor.

"Maybe." Phil pokes his head above the sill and whispers across the endless three feet between their rooms.

Dan leans down and picks up the projectile in question. "That... is definitely a Malteser," he says. "I'd even eat it if it wasn't covered in fuzz. Wait," Dan looks back across to meet Phil's hesitant smile, "does that mean those smudges on my window are chocolate? You're cleaning those up, you know."

"I was just trying to get your attention!" Phil says defensively. "But I didn't have any pebbles or anything. Then I saw I had this bag as part of your birthday present and figured you'd be drawn to the sound of chocolate in need."

Dan sighs and shakes his head in an  _ oh, you lovable idiot _ kind of way before he remembers that he isn't talking to Phil and therefore is not allowed to be as fond as he is of the ridiculous boy. He crosses his arms as he asks, "What did you want then?"

It doesn't come off anywhere near as indifferent as he'd hoped it would be, more sad than anything else, and it makes the exchange even more awkward. There's silence as Phil shifts in his makeshift seat atop of his desk, neither of them willing to say anything.

"Why aren't you talking to me?" Phil finally blurts when the tension becomes too much for him. "We haven't so much as seen each other since the concert and it's just..." He pauses, trying to find how to phrase what he wants to say. "It feels wrong, okay? I just  _ really  _ miss my best friend. Why won't you talk to me?"

It's too hard to look him in the eye, no matter how hard as Dan tries, so he sticks to studying the shifting leaves of the tree in the backyard. When he can tear his eyes away from the green, he sees Phil, wringing his hands and staring at the ground. Dan recognizes his look of conflict from every time he catches his own reflection in the window.

And Dan can't think of anything to say. The army of conversations he's already had in his head march to the forefront of his mind.

("Because I regret kissing you.")

("Because I  _ don't _ regret kissing you.")

("Because I don't wanna mess this up.")

("Because I've messed this up enough as is.")

But no matter what he thinks or wants to say, the words just won't force themselves out of his mouth.

Phil apparently doesn't know what to say either, unsure of how to interpret Dan's silence. The side of the house  _ thunk _ s every time his dangling legs swing back. Picking at the peeling paint on the windowsill, he asks the ground, "Is this because of what happened at the concert?" and waits in agonizing silence for the answer.

"Kind of," Dan says quietly, almost enough so that Phil can't hear him. But he hears him.

"We could-" Phil clears his throat. "I mean, we could pretend it never happened? If you want?"

"No!" Dan snaps, frustrated with himself for not being able to just say it already. "No, I don't want! It's just..."

He sighs, running a hand through his already messy bedhead.

"I don't know  _ what  _ I want any more."

Phil shifts a little where he's sitting. "Do you... Well, what are we to you? Because-"

"I think I love you." Dan blurts it out, afraid if he doesn't say it now that he'll never say it. "I know- I  _ do _ love you. I think. I don't really know. How do any of us ever know, I mean-?"

"I love you too."

It's like his heart stops completely. 

It's like the entire planet grinds to a halt. 

The clouds and few flying birds freeze, the world stops spinning as fast as it had been since he said goodnight to Phil a week ago, and it all comes down to this, to Phil's giddy grin and the breathless way he says, "You need to come over here now so I can kiss you, okay?" and how Phil slides back into his room so he can pull Dan across the gap. Only then does Dan accept that this is really happening and he grabs both of Phil's extended hands.

Phil drags him in the window and Dan's feet aren't even all the way in the house before Phil's lips are covering his and his fingers are twined in Dan's hair. He pulls the rest of himself in the window, kissing back just as hard to make sure it’s real this time. 

His hands are in the collar of Phil’s soft t-shirt that he remembers buying him in the fall because the blue went with his eyes, Phil’s fingers are gentle in his hair that was sticking up even more now, the edges of Phil’s glasses are cutting into his cheek just a little, and it's just so much to process that Dan can't help tearing up, as much as he doesn’t want to.

"Please tell me you're crying for a good reason," Phil pulls back enough to whisper against Dan's lips. He laughs a little in response, which causes more of the tears behind his eyes to leak out. He sits up on his knees, which are wedged in between Phil's, barely on the desk, and Phil's hands land on his shoulders instead, keeping him steady.

"No, it's okay," Dan promises, "not sad crying, I swear. This past, well,  _ year _ has been just so much, and it all culminates in this moment here, and I just-"

He shakes his head and ends up brushing their noses together, making it more precious than he had intended. He isn't complaining, though. The thought that there would be more accidental cute moments like that in the future was exhilarating.

Phil does the same, and though Dan isn’t sure whether he’s shaking his head in disbelief too or if it’s actual intended nuzzling, but he quickly decides it doesn’t matter. Just sitting and breathing in each other’s space is enough for him, he concludes after very little thought.

When he opens his eyes again, Dan finds Phil already staring at him with his eyes slightly crossed to focus on his face as close as it was. It’s a situation he’s familiar with, looking over to find Phil already looking at him, but whether it’s the proximity or the context, there’s something new in his eyes. Maybe it had been there all along and Dan had just never noticed.

It comes as less of a surprise when he leans back in again, probably because Dan finds himself leaning in as well.

“Do you wanna continue this inside before one or both of us falls?”

“I would love literally nothing more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (title _genuinely_ from "more than friends" by gabrielle aplin this time)
> 
> this year (exactly) has been ridiculous and amazing. i never thought i'd ever publish fic after my first awful, grammatically incorrect forays into the field, or _finish_ anything, or anything this _long_ , holy crap. 
> 
> thank you all so much for every kind word and exclamation point filled comment asking for an update. i am so so so grateful to have all of you listening and to be able to give you even a modicum of happiness in such a trash world.
> 
> (and thanks to all the musicians who's lyrics & youtubers who's personalities i borrowed lol) (no but really thank you all so much)

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading!!! i hope you enjoyed it!!!
> 
> tumblr @[dweebhowell](http://dweebhowell.tumblr.com)  
> 


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